


contra legem

by OtherCat



Series: contra legem [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Conquered Earth AU, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Implied Non-Con, Pale Dubcon, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Slavery, Space Opera, nonSgrub AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-13
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 00:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 115,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtherCat/pseuds/OtherCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi Pyrope is a  Neophyte Legislacerator  looking to lease an administrative assistant. She was not expecting to find Dave Strider, a secretarial asset with a sense of integrity as strong as her own.  </p>
<p>Dave Strider is a secretarial asset with "personality problems" that would have gotten him culled if not for his otherwise exemplary administrative abilities. He finds himself drawn into the quadrants of the would-be social reformer who leased him.  He finds he is surprisingly Okay with this.</p>
<p>Both their lives become interesting (in the curse sense) when the Heiress retains Pyrope and her team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Neophyte Pyrope interviews a potential asset

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the homesmut kink meme on LJ. Decided to abandon the prompt when I realized that I was drifting from the original request.

The rental agency was a less than impressive business block in a slightly down at the heels part of town. There were only thirty slaves available, a few of them not even trolls. However, the prices were very affordable and more or less within her budget, according to her mentor, who had recommended the place to her. The waiting room furniture smelled hideous and the lighting buzzed in a particularly annoying manner. Terezi paged through vital statistics hoping to find a halfway decent secretary when she heard a crash from the back room.

Terezi stood up immediately. “What was that?”

“N-nothing, Neophyte,” the receptionist said, a fearful tremor in her voice.

There were more crashes and also shouting from what sounded like one of the back rooms of the agency.

“Fuck you, I’m supposed to report criminal activity, so I fucking reported it,” a voice shouted angrily.

“They were our best clients you stupid piece of shit!”

“Get clients who fucking follow the law--” and then there was just screaming.

Terezi hopped right over the desk, over the protests of the timid receptionist, and headed into the back room, her curiosity greatly piqued. She found the business owner beating on one of his slaves in one of the meeting rooms, an alien who smelled like cherries and cream. She had the sense that the slave was on the floor by an upended table. He screamed in pain as he was struck, but sounded more angry than frightened.

She took her cane and used it to separate the owner from his property. “Integrity is hard to find!” Terezi said cheerfully, her cane pressed against the troll’s throat. “Why would you punish it?”

“He should have brought the information to me, Neophyte, not gone directly to the gendarmedecimators! We are of course a law abiding business,” the troll said. “I was just disciplining the slave for failure to follow business procedure.”

“Oh, I see,” Terezi said in sympathetic tone. “You didn’t want to risk losing a client.”

“Y-yes, exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me.” The troll tried to get up, but she wouldn’t let him.   

“No. I’m interrogating this slave,” Terezi smiled as the troll quailed. “Don’t worry, your business isn’t under investigation! I just want to talk to him.” She helped the man to his feet, and gently but insistently shoved him out of the room.” He protested but all she said was, “and bring me his profile, work history and something to drink in a sealed bottle!” Then she picked the slave up off the floor, sat him down in a chair, righted the table and sat down across from him. The slave had stopped screaming pretty much the moment the owner had stopped beating him. Terezi smelled tears, but he seemed otherwise composed. “So, what’s your name?”

“Dave Strider, Neophyte,” the slave said immediately. His voice was completely calm, and only a little hoarse.

“What made you go directly to the gendarmedecimators instead of reporting to your owner?” Terezi asked in her best “reassuring” tone.

“I did, on three different occasions,” Dave Strider said in the flattest voice she had ever heard. Completely different from the fury she’d heard earlier. He answered all of her questions that way, without a hint of emotion or--she was impressed to realize--with the slightest hint of bias.

The owner brought in the slave’s paperwork and the drink. Terezi passed the drink over to the slave and read the paperwork. She was amused to note that the slave simply opened the bottle and pushed it back over to her. The slave came from a recently conquered world, and she discovered she’d guessed his gender correctly. He had grown up in a training facility where he had gotten high marks in history, math, grammar, and martial arts. His psychological profile explained how he ended up at a down at the heels rental agency. He argued too much. He acted “above himself.” Bad report after complaint of the slave’s personality flaws beside just as many reports of completely exemplary service. (Which explained why he hadn’t been culled.)

“It says here your attitude is horrible, but your typing speed is phenomenal,” Terezi said, tilting her head so that she appeared to be looking over the papers she was holding at the slave. “You passed all of your survival tests but because of your physical aberrations, you were placed in the slave pool where you were sorted onto a business administrative track.”   

The slave seemed to become even more composed. “Yes, Neophyte,” he said in a tone so neutral it was flat, gray and tasted like dust. “I have four sweeps of experience working in an office environment. I can answer phones, greet clients, do bookkeeping and schedule appointments. I am a reliable courier, and aside from my personality defects I have never attempted open insurrection or escape from my lawful masters.”

“What about passive insurrection?” Terezi asked, wanting to see his reaction.

The slave shifted uneasily. “The furthest thing from my mind, sahib,” the slave said, his fingers tapping an irregular, unconscious rhythm on the table. “I’ve been conditioned to be perfectly loyal and devoted to my betters. All I need is a strong hand to guide me, the strictest discipline to keep me on the straightest and narrowest path.”

The slave had paraphrased the introductory line of a character from a historical drama Terezi had watched when she was still a child. (It was very strange to think that this alien was not only her own age, but they had watched the same programs.) She remembered that the character had been speaking to the protagonist, who would eventually become his kismesis later in the series. It seemed like an overture and a challenge, and from a troll, it might have been. _Take me on._ _Let me prove myself._ It was a little strange to hear a challenge; Terezi would have expected an effort to appear pitiful, but this Dave Strider insisted on putting forth a challenge.

Impulse almost persuaded her to take up the challenge, but she wasn’t quite as reckless as her (slowly growing) reputation indicated. It occurred to her that some of the reports of obstinacy and insubordination could have been because of crossed wires. Was the slave aware of the little challenges he sent out, or was she (and therefore any other troll) simply misreading signals they weren’t equipped to receive? This was a highly trained and skilled worker who took pride in his work, not a menial, and not someone to take lightly, even if he was an alien from a recently conquered planet. If she bought him, he’d be a challenge to work with, but the end results would be rewarding if she could acquire his loyalty beyond whatever training and duty had instilled in him.

It then occurred to her that she was now thinking of buying the slave instead of just renting him. She didn’t want to make any promises she couldn’t keep, (or wouldn’t want to keep), so she carefully concealed her interest. The slave didn’t give anything away either; he didn’t look disappointed when she ignored the apparent overture, he just continued to answer her questions. When she was done speaking to him, she dismissed him from the meeting room, telling him to send for his master. Dave Strider stood, bowed, and let himself out of the room.   

The owner returned, full of anxiety for both his business and presumably his life, clearly worried about what the slave might have said about him in his absence. Terezi handled him gently, questioning him about everything in both the profile and the events that led up to the owner disciplining the slave. “He did report to me, but of course given his record I felt he was most likely attempting to cause an inconvenience to our client,” the owner said at one point during the conversation.

“There’s no record of any machinations of that nature in his profile,” Terezi said. “In fact, I believe that you deliberately chose to look the other way because of how much you relied on this client.”

The owner paled. “N-neophyte, I assure--“

“It’s fine,” Terezi assured him with a smile. “I’ve never handled business law before, and as I said, I’m not investigating. I’m just looking for a secretary.”

The owner assumed of course that she was looking for a discount, but she corrected him, pointing out how very much like a bribe the discount sounded. After letting him hang himself in an entertaining and entirely metaphorical manner, she let him off the jut and got down to business. The owner sent for refreshments and additional work profiles and they spent the next few hours discussing her needs and requirements. The owner seemed a little appalled--apparently, he’d never had a legislacerator who specialized in political law with a strong secondary in military law as a client before. “Neophyte, I’m not sure that I have anyone who could fulfill your requirements.”

Terezi tapped one of the nearer profiles. “What about her? She’s worked with military personnel before.”

“As a records clerk in a military hospice, Neophyte,” the owner said. He did not attempt to put Dave Strider up on offer, which Terezi would have almost expected. “I could refer you to a firm that deals in security personnel and clerical staff for high security areas--“

“Why not Dave Strider?” Terezi found herself asking.

“He’s a discipline problem, Neophyte. He’d get injured or killed very quickly and waste your money,” the owner said immediately. “Humans are very fragile, and Strider...pushes.” The owner paused uncomfortably before he continued. “And even if I’d otherwise love to feed him to fishes right now, I don’t want to lose a good worker.”  

It was a remarkably pale admission for the owner to make, considering what had to be an impossible situation for such a down at the heels business. “And he lost you a client,” Terezi said. “But I think he has the skill sets and instincts I’m looking for in a secretary, even if he’s ‘fragile.’ I’d be willing to take him off your hands,” she offered. “Permanently.”  

The owner appeared reluctant, but eventually agreed to the purchase. He still wanted to give her a discount, probably in hopes she would recommend his business. She declined, but did accept a two perigee return policy, though she waived the refund. Dave Strider is about middling expensive, but he won’t kill her budget. Her mentor however was probably going to chew her up and spit her back out in an uncomfortably literal manner; she was supposed to be saving up for moving into her own hive next perigee.

She instructed the (now former) owner not to tell the slave about the purchase. She wanted Dave Strider to think it was only a standard six perigee contract, with the usual four percent allocated to the slave’s manumission fund and allowance. The owner nodded, and Terezi filled out the paperwork. He seemed a little uneasy about something when she mentioned arrangements for her new slave’s personal effects could be delivered to her hivesuite. “Is there a problem?”   

“Neophyte...he has a considerable collection of music...and audio equipment. He spends most of his allowance on it, in fact,” the owner said tentatively. “Will you be wanting that as well?”

“You can retain the more expensive equipment. Any music grubs or players can be sent on six perigees from now.”

The owner bowed. “Yes, Neophyte.” He sounded very pleased with himself, causing Terezi to wonder just how much “audio equipment” Strider had. It couldn’t be very much--slave quarters were generally small.

Dave Strider was waiting for her in the lobby with a husktop under his arm. Nothing about his scent or movement gave anything away He handed Terezi his sylladex, and then followed her out of the building and into the crisply vernal evening. 

Terezi’s hivesuite was one of three on the top floor of her mentor’s smoothly organic Eleventh Millennia

Revival hive in an affluent professional community. Terezi’s hivesuite consisted of a meeting block, two and a half ablution blocks, food preparation block, a quadrant block, a respite block and her office. She showed him the other rooms first, making it clear that he was not to enter the quadrant room under any circumstances, and her respite block only with her permission or in an emergency. (Logically, she knew he should be familiar with the etiquette, but she wanted to make the boundaries very clear to him.) She showed him the office last. “You’ll be sleeping in the office, what sort of bedding does your species prefer?”  

“Some kind of padding or a platform with padding, mistress,” the slave said. “There’s a foam bedroll in my sylladex.”

Terezi nodded. “I’ll give your sylladex back to you after I look through it. I’ll also need to look at your husktop.”

“Of course, mistress,” Dave said and handed her the husktop.

Terezi went through the husktop and the sylladex. She did not find any contraband, and though he had a strife deck, it was currently empty. After thoroughly searching everything, she handed the sylladex and husktop back to him. “Make yourself familiar with our filing system,” she said. “When you’re done, you’re permitted to use the entertainment center.”

“Yes mistress, thank you.” He went to the computer and immediately sat down at it, getting to work immediately.

“If you have any questions, I’ll be in my respite block,” Terezi said, and retreated to her personal computer. She sent a message to her mentor about the purchase, and then sent a message to her forensic team. She was just beginning to renew her search for affordable housing when she received a message from her mentor, telling her to report to him immediately, and bring her newest acquisition. ( **“by which i mean your slave. do not attempt to be humorous and go out and buy pastries, though i would not object to an offering of that nature since it appears you will still be living in my home for some time to come.”** )

Terezi immediately closed the e-mail, straightened her clothes and combed out her hair. Then she left her respite and told Dave to stop what he was doing and change into work clothes. When her slave was ready, she had him follow her downstairs to the foyer that led to her mentor’s suite. She knocked on the door, which opened automatically, revealing her mentor’s meeting block--and her mentor, who was seated in a pit-couch in the center of the meeting block.

 _“Holee shit,”_ her slave said in his own language, his calm demeanor, shattered by the sight of a third molt Judiciary Drone. _“They really do get that big.”_

Her mentor, His Tyranny Who Mediates chuckled, a floor shaking bass rumble, clearly amused by the slave’s reaction, and then said, **“enter, neophyte pyrope.”**

Terezi obeyed stepping closer to the pit couch, offering a reverence, but taking care to stay just out of range of her mentor’s claws. Dave followed, his demeanor composed, though Terezi could smell that her slave was extremely disturbed--even frightened--by the sight of her mentor. He bowed very formally, knelt, and then bowed again.

 **“he has nice manners at least. The younger generation doesn’t always pay attention to the correct forms,”** Mediates rumbled. **“where are my pastries, neophyte?”**

Terezi bowed. “Sir, I thought it would be more important to arrive quickly than take a side trip.” She felt a certain sinking feeling in her stomach.

**“go get my pastries, neophyte, leave your slave here.”**

Terezi tried very hard not to look worried. She may even have been successful. “Yes sir.” She absconded at a quick, but hopefully not too quick manner.

She was somewhat relieved to discover that her slave was still alive when she returned with the pastries roughly forty minutes later. (The traffic was particularly horrible, and the bakery particularly full.) She was less relieved to sense that Dave was sitting perilously close to the Judicial Drone. Terezi was impressed to realize that Dave was not quite as afraid as he had been when he had first seen the drone.

 **“dave, take the pastries into the food preparation block. you’ll find the tea in the cupboard to the left of the sanitation area,”** Mediation told the slave. Dave rose to his feet, bowed, and obeyed her mentor’s instructions. **“neophyte, please have a seat.”** Her mentor gestured toward one of the chairs in the meeting block.

“Yes sir. I hope you approve of my ‘acquisition,’” Terezi said as she sat down on the edge of the seat.

 **“he is polite,”** her mentor said, looking amused. **“we had an interesting conversation about cinema.”**

“Cinema, sir?”

**“why judicial drones do not become actors and very seldom appear on the news.”**

The drone inquired after her forensic team, and then offered criticism on her most recent case, most of it centering on the verdict. The conversation then wandered off into the other cases Mediates had judged in his long career. It paused when Dave returned, pushing a serving cart containing the pastries, and the tea. He served them both tea, and waited by the cart. After some more lecturing and advice, the visit came to an end, and Terezi excused herself politely and left the suite with her slave following at her heels.

The next few days were quiet, with the slave adjusting to his duties, and Terezi adjusting to his presence in her home. Up until now, she had mostly lived alone except brief visits from her quadrant mates. Having another presence in her home was slightly distracting, and even a little uncomfortable, even though Dave was unobtrusive and quiet. Given his living arrangements was undoubtedly not the kind he was used to, Terezi half expected to see the “discipline problems” the profile had indicated, but Dave didn’t seem bothered and adjusted quickly to the situation--more quickly than Terezi was. She was not used to having someone in her home for longer than an over day visit, and hadn’t really anticipated how much on edge another (unknown) person in her living space would be. Dave seemed to understand that too, taking care to not be “too quiet” around her.

Terezi took Dave with her on various errands, mostly as an excuse to see how Dave interacted with others. She introduced him to each of the members of her team, and explained the team hierarchy to him. Dave listened intently, asked questions, and was generally unreadable and polite to everyone. He answered the phone, scheduled appointments with clients, took notes at team meetings and supplied them with gallons of tea.

There were a few moments where the “discipline problem” appeared, but the situation was usually quickly resolved. Terezi noticed that he was more likely to lose his temper when extra work was piled into his queue, or when he was interrupted in the middle of some task. (If the interruptions were because of something serious, he didn’t mind, but if it was because Pyrati wanted to talk about the song Dave was listening to while he worked, chances were good he’d be annoyed.) Her team was relatively even-tempered and didn’t find Dave’s occasional exasperated outbursts to be particularly offensive since they’d done the same to each other for more or less the same reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has an [**ask blog**](http://contralegemasks.tumblr.com/ask).


	2. In which Dave is okay with his situation until he isn’t

It was early evening and he had just gotten up, dressed himself and trudged into the food prep block to make the first pot of tea for the night. He opened the kitchen shades and saw that the smaller moon had just cleared the neighboring hive’s roof top. The greater moon was just a opal suggestion on the horizon. He put some wraps from the thermal hull into the warmer and mentally reviewed his to-do list for the night. It was a pretty long list since he was the entire secretarial pool for a legislacerator and her team. They had been in the wrap up stages of a case around the time he had been leased, and there’d been enough of a lull that he could figure out how to do things, but now there was a new case, and things were just starting to get interesting and hectic and full of extremely unhappy gendarmedecimator-inspectors who got along with legislacerators about as well as lawyers did with cops in a police/legal procedural.   

After a perigee, it still surprised him how very okay he was with this particular job. He’d been half afraid when the Neophyte had leased him that it was the result of some kind of instant blackcrush thing. (He’d been cursing himself internally the whole time after Pyrope had called his master into the meeting room. Stupid, stupid thing to do, mouthing off the way he had, but she’d been so shark-grin cheerful the stupid just fell out of his mouth.) Instead, there hadn’t been more than the usual frustrations of dealing with crazy-ass trolls being their usual crazy-ass selves.

At least, this crazy-ass bunch actually admitted once in a while they might be _in the fucking wrong_.

Dave shook his head slightly, and deliberately unclenched his hand which had decided to become a fist. That line of thinking was just going to get him in trouble, and probably wasn’t really fair. Pyrope’s team was actually pretty okay, talking to him like he was “real” and not like he was a particularly advanced robot or something.

The warmer went “ding” and Dave took out his wraps and set them on a plate. Then he went and rummaged around in the cupboard for a cup. (Pyrope had the organizational ability of an absent minded packrat when it came to anything not immediately related to her job, he had learned. You’d think that a blind woman would make an effort to be more organized in her day to day life, but no.) He poured himself a cup of tea and settled down for breakfast.

“So, is my discipline strict enough for you?”

He must have been still half asleep, because Pyrope’s sudden voice made him jump out of his skin almost. The cup got knocked over, spilling the (fucking hot) tea on his lap. _“Shit shit shit,”_ he swore in English, and pushed away from the table. He didn’t jump up or scream, (never, ever jump or scream around a troll, they are not creatures you ever, ever want to startle or make nervous) he just sat there with gritted teeth and then said, “Mistress, you startled me,” in as even a tone as he could manage.

Pyrope laughed, and tossed him a towel. “I noticed,” she said cheerfully. “Answer the question.” Her voice had an odd growling quality to it, and when he turned to look back at her, there was something about the way she was standing that made a shudder roll down his spine. She’d just gotten out of her recuperacoon by the look of her, her hair hanging in slimy strings, barefoot and wearing an evening robe, but that didn’t take away the air of predatory menace that radiated from her.

He began to dry himself off first, and then the table and floor, acutely aware that Pyrope was now circling him. Dave shivered again and very carefully didn’t make eye contact, even though she couldn’t possibly tell. _Not a blackcrush, she would have done something before now, right?_   Some part of his brain jabbered nervously. He mentally told it to shut the fuck up. “Mistress, I hope my work has been satisfactory?” he asked in as calm a voice as he could manage.

“Completely exemplary,” she said. “Dave, answer the question I asked you, if you would.”  

“Mistress, I have no issue with your discipline,” Dave said.

“Good!” She said cheerfully. The weird predatory vibe she’d been giving off faded and she looked the way she usually did in the evening, like an obscenely cheerful cross between a pixie and a shark. “My kismesis will be coming for a visit,” she said. “I have decided that you are not yet ready to encounter her. Pack an over day bag, you’ll be spending time with Pyrati.” Then she headed off to the ablution block.

A few hours later, Dave was setting up his husktop on the couch in Pyrati’s meeting block. Despite Pyrati’s truly obnoxious habit of interrupting to socialize at the worst possible moment, Dave got along with him pretty well. The troll was in his office performing arcane digital forensic procedures on hapless grubdrives. The current case involved the murder or possible assassination of a minister’s moirail (which had resulted in the minister going completely berserk batshit loony and taking out most of his staff).

Before tackling his work assignments and phone calls for the day, Dave fired off his weekly status report to his master. He spent the next few hours on his work assignments, taking a break only when Pyrati stuck his head out of his office and told him to order lunch. Dave made the order and went back to work. When the food arrived, he paid for the food and headed to the office. The door was ajar, and Pyrati was vivisecting a grubdrive so he just left the bag on the desk and returned to his husktop.

A few minutes later, Pyrati stuck his head out of the office. “You didn’t have to pay for it; you should have come get me.”   

“You’re welcome, boss,” Dave said. “I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

Pyrati made a clicking growl at him in annoyance “Did you order anything for yourself?” He asked, frowning.

“Wasn’t hungry, boss.”

This got him another clicking growl. “If you’re hungry, there’s some frozen dinners in the hull,” he said, and disappeared into his office.     

After he’d finished all of his work assignments, Dave checked his message box, and wasn’t surprised that he didn’t get an answer back immediately from the status report he sent. It usually took Orland about a day to get around to replying. What bothered him was that he hadn’t received a confirmation that his allowance and fund had been paid, and he should have gotten it by now. He went online, and tried to get to his allowance account, and found that either he had been locked out of his account or his account had been deleted. He stared at the error message, confused and beginning to become a little uneasy.

He immediately called his master, and got Meride, the slave that usually acted as Orland’s receptionist. “Dave?” She asked, sounding surprised.

“Meride is master available?” Dave asked. “There’s something wrong with my bank account. I never got the confirmation message and now I can’t check my account.”

Meride was silent for a moment. “Dave, you haven’t been an asset of this business for a perigee. Why are you calling here about your bank account?”

“What?” Dave asked blankly. “Meride, that isn’t even close to funny. It’s so far off from funny it’s in a eighty five sweep orbit around the sun.”

“No, I’m not joking,” Meride said, sounding calm and distant. “You were sold to Neophyte Pyrope--“

“I’ve been taking money out of my account for the past month, Meride!” Dave said, a little louder than he intended. He was scared, angry and confused in a way he hadn’t been since he was five sweeps (ten), being shoved into a van filled with other human kids and taken to a training facility. It felt like the bottom had fallen out of his stomach, as if someone was squeezing his heart. He was peripherally aware that Pyrati had come out of his office and was asking him what was wrong, but he hardly noticed. 

“I suppose they must have waited before doing the transfer of authority and moving your account to her bank,” Meride said. “You should speak with your new owner about that.” There was a pause. “When you aren’t quite so disturbed.”

“Right. My new owner. Thanks Meride.” He ended the call, feeling sick, and feeling betrayed somehow, like Orland had an obligation to tell him shit about anything. Like the heap of shit building where he lived between jobs was something worth wanting to go back to. Like he was cut adrift and he was that scared kid again. Tears stung his eyes and he furiously rubbed them away. _“God fucking dammit,”_ he said in English. _“God fucking dammit to hell.”_

“Dave,” Pyrati said, coming a little closer. “Are you all right?”

Dave bit his tongue to keep from saying, _Do I fucking look all right to you?_ He took a deep breath instead, and then let it out. “Just found out I’ve been down the river for a perigee now.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Pyrati said, frowning at him.  

“I mean that mistress bought me, and I’ve only just found out now,” Dave said, forcing himself to at least sound calm even though he wanted to scream. “I’m mourning the loss of my music and sound system.”

“Oh,” Pyrati said, and looked uncomfortable. “Look, I’m not your moirail or anything--“

“I’m fine, boss,” Dave said, more shortly than he intended. “I’m not going to fly off the handle or flip any tables.”

“Yeah, but right now you’re too pathetic to ignore,” Pyrati said. “Put away your phone and shut down your husktop. Go get something to eat.”

Dave sighed and did as he was told. While the warmer was heating up the frozen dinner, Pyrati entered the food prep block and sat down at the table. The troll had a general air of wanting to say something, but Dave was perfectly willing to let him stew in silence for as long as it took for him to get bored and walk away. The problem was, Pyrati didn’t seem likely to wander off again anytime soon. “Boss, you want me to heat something up for you too?” Dave asked as the warmer dinged. He took his dinner out of the warmer, and rummaged around for an eating utensil.

“Sure,” Pyrati said. “The river grain and breaded avian cutlets with long beans.”

Dave nodded and got the tray out of the hull, poked holes in the film and put it in the warmer. He started to eat his dinner at the counter, but Pyrati gestured for him to sit at the table. _Pale overtures all over the place,_ Dave thought. At least, he thought they might be pale. He wasn’t sure how he’d feel it this was “flushed.” He started eating again.

“Are you upset because the boss was deceptive, or because you liked where you were?” Pyrati asked after a few moments.

“What I’m ‘feeling’ isn’t relevant to my duties, boss,” Dave said. He tasted bile at the back of his throat. “You have no reason for concern.” _Let’s keep this professional_ , he thought. The warmer dinged, so Dave got up to get Pyrati’s dinner.

“Dave, answer the question,” Pyrati said in a firm voice. The look in his brown eyes was uncomfortably concerned, and the troll was clearly trying hard to look stern and authoritative.

Dave twitched at the tone, and carried Pyrati’s dinner over to him. “Not to be disrespectful, but realizing I totally am, I am not a jointly held asset of this legal firm. Even if I was, my feelings would be none of your business, boss.” He slid the dinner over and returned to his seat. “You’re one of my owner’s partners, not a peer, an associate, or my moirail, which I don’t have anyway _because I’m not a troll_.”

Pyrati’s expression darkened, his bluntly curved horns lowering a bit. Dave held himself very still, anticipating an explosion. Instead, Pyrati click-growled at him and said, “Fine, I’ll back off, but only for now.”

“You’ll still get the same answer, boss,” Dave said, “but I can’t exactly stop you.” _So whatever_ , he added silently.    

That day, he didn’t get much sleep. He spent most of it staring at spots of sunlight that escaped through the curtains, or at the ceiling. When he did sleep, he’d just wake up again from anxiety dreams. After the third time he woke up from the dream where his skin was peeling off in thick opaque sheets and some kind of worm-centipede thing was boring into and out of random parts of his body, he decided to give up on sleep entirely. He packed up his bedroll, opened the curtains and wandered into the food prep block to get some soda and some snack food (he felt he had tacit permission to grab the orange dairy product flavored grain wafers). Then he returned to the meeting block and watched old movies until he fell back to sleep.  

When he woke up again, a glance at the clock told him that he’d overslept (had been allowed to oversleep). He was not okay with this, but he couldn’t exactly yell at the person responsible, so he settled for doing his usual evening routine and eating while he worked. Eventually, he reached the end of the work assignments that he could do just with his phone and husktop. He got up and walked over to Pyrati’s office and knocked. “Boss? Do you know when mistress will be done with her kismesis? All that’s left is some filing.”

“She usually visits for two or three nights,” Pyrati said in an odd tone of voice. “I have an errand you could run. Boss probably forgot to send you more work.” There was the sound of movement, and then Pyrati was at the door. He was holding some security sealed captchalogue cards. “These need to go to Agneta. You can use my transport.”

Dave nodded and took the cards, and Pyrati’s keys. “Okay, boss.” He headed out.

He returned from the errand an hour later to find that Pyrati was playing a video game in the meeting block. Without looking up he said, “I called the boss. She said her kismesis will be heading out sometime this morning.”

“Okay. What do I do in the meantime?”

“Take a break, get something to eat, watch my team get massacred--“The last was said as Pyrati’s entire party was fired on by airships. “Fucking diseased shit-eating corpsefucker.”

“Okay,” Dave said, trying not to snicker at the invective, and headed into the food preparation block. He heated a dinner up and ate in the kitchen. The swearing from the meeting block continued, interspersed with the occasional shrill whistle of triumph. Just as he was finished eating, Pyrati asked him to get some beer out of the thermal hull, which Dave did, with some slight hesitation. He carried it back and set it down on the table next to Pyrati, then retreated to a chair, and zoned out for a while, watching Pyrati’s team navigate through enemy territory.

“Hey Dave?” Pyrati asked after a while. His tone of voice was strangely cautious.

“What boss?” Dave asked, straightening up a little.   

“What did you mean by boss being ‘done with’ her kismesis?” Pyrati asked in that same careful tone.

“Nothing in particular, boss,” Dave said, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I meant done with the visit, I guess.”

“Okay,” Pyrati said, not dropping the ‘careful’ tone. “It kind of bothered me a little, because it was a pretty odd word choice.”

“I’ll be more careful boss,” Dave said. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Pyrati said. “I was just curious.”  

Pyrati dropped him off at his mistress’ hive later in the day. It was a dark, cloudy day, and Pyrati wasn’t wearing shades, so it was pretty obvious when he glanced in Dave’s direction. Dave was wearing shades, so it was easy to pretend he didn’t notice the little concerned looks Pyrati kept shooting in his direction.    




For some reason, it felt weird walking into the building, then up the elevator to her hivesuite. Even though he had been working for her for a perigee now, even though he had become accustomed to his living situation and to the legislacerator, it suddenly felt as if he were entering new territory. In a way, he was. He wouldn’t have the theoretical protection of his former master anymore if something went wrong. Not that the “protection” had really meant anything because in the case of a legislacerator, Orland’s “protection” would have been a crack pot theory involving lost civilizations and a racist moron cooing about pyramids having been designed by aliens.  

He wondered why she’d bought him the way she had, deliberately letting him think this was an ordinary rental. He wondered why she had bought him in the first place. His mind kept turning to the very first time they had spoken, the interrogation that had turned into a bizarre sort of interview. _She really does need a secretary. She has a kismesis, so she doesn’t need a punching bag. She probably won’t beat me unless I really fuck up._ All he had to do is find out what “really screwing up” looked like without finding out first hand.

The hivesuite was quiet and smelled as if it had been recently cleaned. Dave shut and locked the door behind him, then activated the security wire. When he went to the office, he found a note from his mistress telling him that she’d give him his new account number when she got up. Until then, he was apparently free to do whatever he wanted.

What he ended up doing was retreating to the office and doing some filing until he became too tired to see straight. He fell asleep and had strange dreams about someone he had known while at the training facility. Someone who was probably dead, but in the dream he was alive and kicking Pyrati’s tail at _Star Empires._


	3. In which the Neophyte questions (and pushes) while Dave dissembles (poorly)

Terezi slid out of her recuperacoon that evening feeling fuzzy headed and aching in interesting places. She probably shouldn’t have gone dancing with her kismesis, not when she was in the middle of a case. Vriska however could be obnoxiously persistent. (And it was sometimes better to let your partner think she was winning every so often.) She grinned to herself as she put on a robe. She might be complaining about it now, but the dancing had been a good cover for other activities, and the exchange of important information. 

She could hear her slave moving around in the food preparation block. Terezi left her room and headed for the ablution block. After a quick shower and getting dressed in casual clothes, she padded barefoot into the food prep block. Dave smelled like dust and cobwebs, with a slight hint of anxious tension. Terezi didn’t say anything to him as she went to the thermal hull and took out some left over hardboiled eggs, egg sauce and bread to make sandwiches with.

Dave was just getting done eating. He started to stand up, but sat back down when she told him to with a murmured, “yes, mistress.”

Terezi finished making her breakfast, carried it over to the table and sat down across from him. Anything she had planned to say, sort of flew out the window, so she covered by eating a sandwich. Dave said nothing, his expression unreadable, though Terezi could sense that he was on edge. “It was pretty much my intent to buy you from the beginning,” Terezi said finally.

“From what I’ve learned, mistress, you had bought me from the beginning,” Dave said, his voice calm and distant. “Though I suppose this past perigee was a test of some kind, which I passed?”

“You suppose correctly,” Terezi said. “You’ll be getting most of your belongings back, except for some ‘audio equipment’ that your previous master mentioned.” There was an almost hopeful scent at the former, followed by one that was disappointed but bitterly amused at the latter.

Mistress, he conned you,” Dave said, and when Terezi made an inquiring noise, he explained in detail what the “audio equipment” was, and how much it all cost.

Terezi was a little startled about how much the “audio” equipment was worth. She was also surprised that Dave’s former owner hadn’t made use of this skill set. At least, none of the listed worksites in Dave’s profile had been at auditoriums or night clubs. The only thing that kept her from speculating on “under the table” jobs was her annoyance at having been tricked. “He’s probably sold it already too, so we can’t get it back.” She nibbled on a sandwich.

Dave gave off a sense of surprise swiftly veiled. “Yes mistress,” he said in a neutral tone. “Probably.”

Terezi gave Dave his new account number, and the address of the bank she used, and ordered him to set up the new account and then report back to her when he was done. She finished off her breakfast and retreated to her respite block to work and send messages to her contacts. She was midway through her mail when she heard a knock, and turned to find Dave standing in the doorway. “Mistress? I’ve finished creating my account.”

“You’re strife specibus is swordkind, right?” Terezi asked.  

“Yes, mistress.” His voice sounded honestly surprised at the question.

Terezi grinned. “How long has it been since you practiced?”

There was a slight hesitation before he replied. “Not since I left the training facility, mistress.”

What he said didn’t sound entirely true, so she beckoned him to come closer. “Give me your hands.” She held her own out, and after a moment, he obeyed her. She felt his hands, which were warmer than her own, thin nails trimmed short. She could feel that he still had sword calluses, not very pronounced, but there. “Would you like to amend your statement, Dave Strider?” She asked, not letting go of his hands.

“I--between jobs I would exercise with a mop handle, cut down to the length of my old sword,” Dave admitted. He didn’t try to pull away, but he sounded uneasy. “It was only for exercise, mistress.”

“Given the sort of clients and cases we’ll be faced with, my entire team needs to be able to defend themselves or attack as needed. Do you think I could trust you with a sword, Dave?” Terezi asked. She felt his hands twitch in hers. He was confused and the anxiety she had sensed grew a little stronger.

“Mistress, I have been trained to be loyal--“ Dave said, and then gasped because she’d dug her thumbs briefly into the center of his palms. Not hard enough to draw blood, just enough to hurt. Despite the pain, he didn’t try to jerk away from her, though she could feel that he was shaking; not so much from fear and not really from anger, though she could smell both, accompanied by the taste of bitter oranges and blood. She could sense that he was fighting to stay still, and it was taking all of his control to do it.

Terezi felt a moment of pity for the slave. She knew it could be painful and confusing to have your life completely rearranged, even if you were used to change. She let that sympathy show on her face. “That wasn’t the question, Dave,” Terezi said calmly. “I wanted an answer, not an assurance. Can I trust you with a sword?”

“Y-yes mistress,” Dave said, sounding extremely rattled now. And uncertain, not as if he were lying, but as if he himself didn’t know the answer to her question.

Terezi let him go, and he staggered backward, as if there had been a rope stretched between them that had suddenly snapped. “We’ll see about getting you a sword.”

“Yes mistress,” Dave said, and his voice was thick and strained.  

“For now, go make some tea, and some sandwiches. We’re going to be having a team meeting later in the evening. It’s probably going to be a long one.”

She heard him bow, and abscond.

The meeting turned out to be one of the loud ones, with Pyrati and Agneta fiercely contesting Coiver’s pet theory about the relationship between the suspect, the moirail and the kismesis. Terezi’s instincts were very much on Pyrati and Agneta’s side but Coiver was making some good points that her document expert and her paramortem examiner were too annoyed to listen to because he was being a complete fuckass. Terezi ended up having to play platonic auspistice and separate them. “Coiver, as it happens, I don’t think it’s the kismesis either, though I don’t think he’s entirely innocent.”

“Everything points to it being--“ Coiver protested angry.

“No it doesn’t!” Agneta said. “If you’d just get your head out of your nook--“

“Both of you shut up!” Terezi shouted. “There is no evidence that the kismesis is directly responsible for the moirail’s death. There is some evidence for the theory he somehow arranged the death, but no hints he paid anyone. What we do know is that he met with the minister and shortly after that the minister found his moirail, which resulted in the minister attacking his own staff instead of going after the kismesis.”

“He’s currently red-flipped for the minister,” Axumen noted, speaking for the first time since Coiver, Pyrati and Agneta started shouting at each other. “And the minister is very adamant that there is no way that the kismesis could have been responsible for the murder of his moirail.”

“Which doesn’t mean anything,” Coiver said. “And it doesn’t mean anything if the moirail is backing him up--she also said she didn’t see who killed her.”

Agneta started to reply but found herself staring into the garnet-chip eyes of Terezi’s dragon cane. “I’ve decided we’re taking a thirty minute break,” Terezi said in her best cheerful tone, then turned her head toward Coiver to give him warning look. “Dave, bring out the refreshments.”

Dave, who had been taking notes in the corner of the meeting block jumped a little, then got to his feet, heading for the food prep block. Terezi didn’t miss the concerned look that Pyrati turned on the slave. “Thanks for keeping an eye on him while Serket was here,” Terezi said. “Vriska has poor impulse control and Dave has a smart mouth.”

“He seems very well behaved to me,” Axumen said.

“You haven’t done anything to get him started yet,” Pyrati said. “With the right instigation, you might become inspiration.” He grinned briefly.

“I think I’ll avoid the aggravation,” Axumen said. “For a war of words I have no motivation.”

“You don’t necessarily have to rhyme,” Terezi said. “I had a friend who if you pushed him enough, he’d go off on these hilarious tirades of metaphoric alliteration.” She went on to tell stories about a few of them. She was careful about name-dropping, but when the conversation somehow turned to politics and the Heiress, Terezi found herself facing a lot of questions about the Heiress’ Progressive Movement and her recent ceremonial visit to the Senate. “As far as I know, her goals are exactly what she says they are,” Terezi said. “But I have no idea of when or if she’s going to make her move.”

Her team was distracted when Dave returned with sandwiches and soda, but only briefly. “But isn’t your kismesis involved with the Heiress’ entourage?” Axumen asked.

Terezi laughed. “My kismesis is involved with everything, or thinks she is. She’s not even close to high enough on the spectrum to play the kind of games the princess might be playing.”

She managed to shift the conversation off speculations about her kismesis or her own supposed connection to the Empress, and into safer territory. Once she felt that her team was settled enough to continue, they moved back to the case at hand. After some more wrangling, they were able to reach a consensus on the case and began to plan out the presentation of the evidence and the final steps of the trial. It was almost morning when she finally dismissed the meeting. She had Dave clean up, and watched the news.

Over the next few days, Terezi got ready for the trial. She practiced her opening statements and drilled her teammates in their own statements. She decided to have Dave help run the presentation of evidence and the timeline of events and walkthrough. This seemed to make him very nervous, though he obviously knew what he was doing. “You’ll be fine,” she told him. He didn’t seem convinced.

“Courtroom dramas are kind of bloody, even if the legislacerator gets the verdict they want, mistress,” he said. He was trying to keep it out of his voice, but Terezi could sense that he was worried.

“There’s an engineer bolthole right where you’ll be working,” Terezi said. “If you’re worried about not being able to defend yourself, you can use one of my canes.” She unlogged one of her spare canes and tossed it to her slave, who caught it. “Follow me,” she said, and headed for the door.

The second floor of the building had a small gym and meeting rooms for talking to clients or interacting with other legislacerators. The gym was empty at the moment. “You can start coming down here to exercise,” Terezi said, walking past the exercise equipment to the sparring ring. She stepped into the circle, and turned to Dave, who was standing just outside it. “If anyone gives you trouble, let me know.”

“Yes mistress,” Dave said. His tone was uncertain, and a little wary. He stepped into the circle with her. His stance was very uncomfortable, and she could hear him shift from foot to foot, and the slight swish of the cane as he tried to get used to it. “How do we do this?”

“Just come at me Dave,” Terezi said, and took a defensive stance. The slave’s first attack was a little awkward, as if he were afraid to hit her. Terezi avoided his blows and knocked him off his feet. “Try harder, Dave. You can do better than that.” She darted forward, lashing out with her cane.

Dave scrambled back out of the way, and struck back clumsily. Terezi blocked and knocked him off his feet. She attacked, and he rolled out of her way, bouncing back onto his feet. The slave lunged forward and she dodged out of way. They fought like this for about an hour, Dave’s form slowly improving as he remembered how to move. The human was extremely fast on his feet and sneaky, managing to get up under her guard several times. She thought if he were a little more in condition, he’d probably be a very challenging opponent, even if he was more “fragile” than a troll. The sparring match ended with Dave flat on his back and Terezi with a knee on his chest and her cane across his throat. “That was fun,” she said, and moved off of him so he could get up.

Dave lay there for a moment, breathing hard before pushing himself to his feet. “If you say so mistress,” Dave said, sounding tired, but not quite as uncertain as he’d been previously.

“I do say so,” Terezi said, and picked up her spare cane, holding it out to Dave. “Keep it with you.”

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said.

He followed her back to the hive suite, limping slightly, and carrying the cane. Once they were back, Terezi said, “Pyrati seems to be very concerned about you.”

“There’s no reason to be, mistress,” Dave said in his gray voice. “As I told him, what I feel has nothing to do with my duties.”

“What if I think it does?”

The slave shifted uneasily. “Why would you,” Dave asked, his voice cracking slightly..

“Why wouldn’t it be? If I asked, would you tell me how you felt?” Terezi moved forward, herding him further into the meeting block.

“Mistress--“

“Just answer the question, Dave,” Terezi said, interrupting him. “Would you tell me how you feel?”

“I’ve always been obedient to my master’s directions, mistress,” Dave said in a strained voice. She could sense he was fighting for control, trying to stay gray, but she could taste bitter and sour colors coming from him, wisps of acid and bile. .

“Dave, were you comfortable where you were?” Terezi asked, moving closer. 

“It was just a place where I was,” Dave said, then in a low voice that was nearly a growl, “just like this is a place.”   

“Pyrati said you were upset.” She reached out, putting a hand on his arm. He started and tried to jerk away, but found he couldn’t. She had his arm in a tight grip. “You were there, how long, about four sweeps? That’s a lot of time for your species, right?” He was trembling under her hand, he smelled angry and afraid. She could smell salt and water.

_“Eight years,”_ he said in his own language. “Mistress, why are you asking me?”

“Do you want me to stop?” Terezi asked gently.

Dave shivered, and then went completely still under her hand. “You’ll do whatever you want, mistress,” he said in a soft voice. He smelled like pain and defeat.

_I pushed a little too hard,_ she thought. Realized. She slid her grip down to his hand, and tugged him to the office. He followed without resistance, but she could sense a spike of fear and anxiety, and his hand trembled slightly. She opened the door and gently pushed him inside. “Go to sleep Dave, tomorrow you can have a rest day.”     

 


	4. In which Dave receives weapons and is confused by conflicting emotions

For several long moments, he just stared at the door and listened to her footsteps as she walked away from the office door to her respite block. He felt raw and wide open, eyes stinging with stupid bitch tears just from her questions. He hated himself for the fear and speculation that had run through him when she tugged him toward the office door. But all she’d done was push him into the room, and give him the next day off.

He thought he might hate her for how fucking _gentle_ she was about sending him off to bed like he was, shit, he didn’t know what. Not like a kid, trolls didn’t raise their own young, they left them in the care of weird mutant animals bred for the task, and it was like Lord of the Flies crossed with The Jungle Book on their home planet. She treated him like something she didn’t want to damage. Like he was fragile, but at the same time, like she couldn’t resist taking him apart to see how he worked. He didn’t know what that meant, the way she treated him.

Dave wiped his face with one hand, and settled down onto his bed. Sleep didn’t come easily, and when it did, it came with things he didn’t want to think about, or remember. Not all of it bad, but a lot of it not good--Bro waking him up early on his birthday for breakfast at a nearby diner turning into getting up for Assembly at the training facility. Practicing with his sword, sparring with his brother on the roof of their apartment building, seamlessly turning into the survival course everyone had to take, whether you were going into the military, or the slave pool. Getting his first set of turntables from his bro turned into the first time he’d DJed, and that somehow turned into the night his brother woke him up in the middle of the night telling him they had to leave quickly, and how it had been too little, too late.

That woke him up, the memory of fire and gunfire and the way his bro had looked after they had killed him. The local resistance group had wanted to make an example of the “collaborators” who had jobs at the base outside of Houston. Somehow, his bro had gotten tipped off, but the warning hadn’t been enough, and his bro and about a dozen of their neighbors had gotten lynched. He had been about nine years old when his brother died. He’d spent a year living between houses until he’d gotten rounded up with a bunch of other kids and taken to a training facility.   

“Not thinking about it,” Dave whispered. It didn’t really work. The entirely metaphorical ghosts were still hovering around his head. After a few moments of hoping he’d be able to get back to sleep, he sat up instead. The clock indicated that he had only been a sleep for about three hours. He got out of bed and used the ablution block, then went into the meeting block.

Since he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get back to sleep soon, he decided to watch a movie. Pyrope’s tastes in entertainment were mostly legal procedurals, and the occasional historical drama, especially historical dramas with gambligants. She also apparently liked romances and the occasional horror movie. (Troll horror movies were the weirdest damn things, full of sudden bright lights and rollercoaster spinning angles.) Dave ended up watching one of the romances, and eventually fell back to sleep on the couch. His dreams were still pretty shitty, but at least they didn’t involve anything real.

He woke up to find his owner standing over him. Dave couldn’t help the flinch. “Mistress?” he asked warily.

“We’re going to get you some court-formal business clothes,” Pyrope said. “And weapons. How good are you with fire arms?”

Dave sat up. “I have some experience,” he admitted. “Handguns and rifles.”

 “We’ll see if we can find something for you,” Pyrope said. “Go take a shower and change.”    




Less than an hour later, they had breakfast at a small open air café that was near the hive. Pyrope ordered and spent the time waiting for the food asking him questions about the music he liked and his equipment. She also asked why Orland hadn’t taken advantage of his musical skill set. “You don’t make a lot of money at the kind of venues I DJed for,” Dave said and shrugged. “I kept records of what I made and turned them over to master, and I got to keep about half.”

Pyrope asked more questions all through breakfast. Things about his past that occasionally made him uncomfortable, things that he couldn’t figure out why she’d want to know. He tried to answer without giving too much away, but she was a legislacerator so that plan was pretty much doomed to failure. She wanted to know everything about his life, everything about his past. She wanted to know what his brother had done for a living (beehouse mainframe technician) and where he and his brothers had lived, (Houston, Texas, North America, Earth). Every time he tried to throw her off or misdirect her, she would pry and poke at him until she got what she wanted. She would not back off, and she didn’t get angry when he dissembled, she’d just grin at him like a shark when he started getting upset and keep asking until he answered.

The irons she was putting to him cooled down a little when they went shopping for clothes. She dragged him from store to store, making split decisions based on some metric Dave couldn’t figure out. It seemed to be some combination of how expensive the store was, how helpful the salespeople were and how the place smelled. She finally settled on a store and he spent the next few hours trying on what seemed like hundreds of suits. She narrowed the selection down to four formal suits and then bought him three extra shirts and a pair of dress boots.

The trips to the blade shop and the gun shop were a little more sedate. Pyrope had a favorite of both that she went to when she wanted to buy a gift for a friend or to supply her team. The selection process was a lot more sedate, too. She bought a pair of light single edged swords that looked a little like a katana and a wakizashi, only a little broader with a bit more of a curve. She bought hand guns and ammunition next, and then took him to a firing range where she made him practice for about an hour and a half. She also gave him the license card that he’d need to show to prove that he was allowed to carry weapons.

With all the rushing around and all of the questions, the impact of suddenly having weapons, of being expected to carry them, did not really hit him until a few hours after he had gotten back to the hivesuite. He retreated to the office, unlogged his weapons, laid them out and just stared at them for a while. He decided he was going to leave one of the handguns out where he could grab it, so he put the hand gun between the mattress and the wall, and then relogged the other weapons.

He had not been armed in the eight years since he’d been working, and the feeling of security that came with having weapons, and having been given the responsibility to use them was a little overwhelming. He felt _proud_ that he had been permitted weapons. It was a completely ridiculous feeling to have, but he could not help feeling it. He might be a “discipline problem” who thought too highly of himself according to his profile, but when you got down to it, the training said _; be loyal and you’ll be rewarded, work hard and you’ll be protected_. It had been engraved in his brain with constant repetition, the carrot to go with all of the sticks. So he was loyal, and he worked hard and it pissed him off, maybe, when the other side wasn’t keeping their part of the bargain. Even if he knew that the bargain was bullshit and didn’t really exist, he kept trying. He remembered a bit of conversation from a few years ago, with Domingo, one of the few humans he had worked with for any significant length of time.

_“You’re so fucking brainwashed. You’re a fucking white trash Uncle Tom.”_

_“Yeah well, you’re gonna end up being spic Spartacus, mi hermano.”_

_“Oh fuck you.”_

_“Only if you ask nicely.”_

What Domingo had never seemed to get was that if there was no place else to go, your only chance to survive was to go along with it, at least where trolls were concerned. With the Empire, you couldn’t hold a sit in or stage a protest and have it end in anything other than a bloodbath. With trolls, Civil Disobedience would render you most uncivilly deceased. The best you could hope for was that someone with sufficient authority felt sorry for you and was willing to work the laws and regulations in such a way that you maybe benefited from it. Or that you were useful enough that you could win some kind of privileged position or status. Anything else would just get you killed in a nasty way, and the Troll Empire had the market cornered where nasty death was concerned.

So it was pretty much inevitable that Domingo thought Dave was an ass-kissing troll-fag, and Dave thought Domingo was a trouble making bag of dicks. Despite their natural animosity, they had tried to get along simply because there weren’t very many humans on this planet, let alone this star-region of the Empire. Maybe a few thousand, not counting any military personnel that came by on the ships. They had no choice but to get along as a result, because there was no one else around who might possibly understand what the other person was talking about. Domingo had turned out to be pretty okay in the end, but eventually, Domingo ended up getting sold away elsewhere and Dave hadn’t heard from him since.

Dave tried to imagine what Domingo would have said about the weapons. About the _pride_ Dave felt that he’d been given them. Probably something like, _yeah sure, you’re moving up in the world, from office equipment to what, a guard dog? That’s something to write home about._

Dave was interrupted from his thoughts by Pyrope’s voice, calling him into the meeting block. He got to his feet and headed out of the office. He found Pyrope setting up a board game that he recognized, and had played when he had been at the training facility. The game was roughly analogous to chess, and it was one of those Classic and Important Cultural Icons that got referenced in troll books and movies. “Have a seat, Dave,” Pyrope said. “Do you play?” He wondered if this was supposed to be a reward, or a set up for some more questioning.

“Yes mistress,” Dave said, sitting down across from her. “It was something I learned at the training facility.”

Pyrope nodded. “Red or black?”

Dave hesitated a moment before replying, “Red, mistress.”

She grinned a shark’s grin at him. “I thought you’d pick black.”   

“Red moves first, mistress,” he said, testing the waters a little bit.

“So move,” Pyrope said. “I’ll let you have the advantage, even though it’s my favorite color.”

It had been a while since he’d played, so he kept his moves fairly simple and basic. The closest he got to aggressive was when she left him an opening. Of course, it was a trap, and she took out his prince and both of his cataphracts. She managed to tear his defenses to bits after that a short time later. “I’m sorry, mistress,” Dave said. “I wasn’t able to give you much of a challenge.”

“You’re challenging in other ways Dave,” Pyrope said. “Though not as challenging as the night we met.” She paused, her grin slightly evil. “It almost seemed like you were blackflirting with me, but then I realized there might be ‘crossed wires.’”

Dave tensed a little at the mention of “blackflirting,” then relaxed a little. “I wasn’t flirting, mistress,” he admitted. “I was just mouthing off because I was angry.”

“That’s not very smart,” Pyrope said. She didn’t sound like she thought it was a bad thing. “It certainly got my attention though.”

“I wasn’t really thinking. I was just angry,” Dave said.

“Because your master was riding the edge of breaking the law,” Terezi said, her tone slightly teasing. “And you so determined to do the right thing--the situation made me more than a little giddy. I wanted to buy you immediately, just for that, but I waited until I had read your papers. Then, I was certain you’d be a good fit.”

Dave found he wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he settled on, “I hope I can meet your expectations.”

They played another game, and then Pyrope decided to spend some time talking about the upcoming trial. She explained court procedure and ran over what he was going to be doing during the presentation. She made him repeat back to her every single detail of what he was doing until she was satisfied, then had him actually going through the motions of setting up the equipment. He couldn’t help but be impressed by how organized she was. She knew about every piece of evidence involved with the case, and insisted that he be able to list them all. Then she talked about previous trials and things that had gone wrong, and anecdotes about cases she’d won. When she was finally done coaching him he felt like his head might explode from all the information. Pyrope was gleefully unsympathetic, informing him that this was a very simple and straight forward case.

With all the preparation, he still didn’t feel ready for the trial. His part was extremely small and out of the way, but he felt ridiculously nervous. (He decided to blame most of the nervousness on the presence of the very large Judicial Drone presiding over the case.) He helped each of Terezi’s team members do their presentations of the evidence, and only flubbed slightly when Terezi requested that he bring up a specific piece of evidence and he brought up the wrong image. He replaced the image quickly and the rest of the trial went on without a hitch.

He had anticipated that his only duty after the trial would be to make sure everything was filed and the projection and sound equipment put away. So, Dave was a little surprised when Pyrope called him into the meeting block for the after-trial recap. “You don’t get to hide in the office, Dave,” she said cheerfully, and made him sit down next to her.

It was a very long day.

 


	5. In Which the Neophyte corrects a mistake and her slave offers a lesson in professionalism to a better

It was six more perigees and four more trials before she was able to purchase and move into her new hive, and lease a proper office block with enough space for a lab for the firm. Her mentor complained about it, but she thought he wasn’t quite as annoyed about it as he pretended. She sent him small gifts of appreciation for his patience, and he continued to send her thought puzzles to solve, or directed her to research a particular historical case. (He was the best mentor. Also the scariest.) He also occasionally invited her to his suite for discussions of her plans for the future, or of her cases, which she greatly appreciated.

During that time, Dave proved his worth on several occasions. In addition to his more mundane duties, he fended off distraught clients and suspects, ensured the crime scene was not tampered with, and occasionally aided in the collection of evidence. He asked questions and when he was off duty, he could be found reading professional journals in the field. (She had joked a little to her mentor that it was a little like having an initintern, but he hadn’t seemed to think it was funny.)

Dave continued to be an interesting puzzle to her. She did some research on his species, mostly medical and psychological information, but also observations on their culture and customs. (Or cultures. The humans had been divided into many nations and tribes.) She questioned Dave frequently about his world, about traditions and holidays and food. He was occasionally very resistant to answering questions, but she was usually able to eventually wear him down.   




“Mistress, why do you want to know so much about me--or Earth?” he asked during one of their conversations.

“I like to know everything about my team,” she said in reply. “I know the least about you and where you come from.”

He looked so relieved that for a moment, it made her chest hurt a little. She had noticed that Dave didn’t like being singled out, though he could be occasionally proud of his skills. “So it’s not just me,” he said. “You do this to everyone.”

“Everyone all the time,” she said. “They like it about as well as you do.”

She heard Dave shift as he looked away from her. He said in a low voice, “It’s like you’re trying to pry me open like a clam, this interrogative feelings jam where you scoop what’s inside out. I’m not sure I can handle it, not used to being vivisected.”

“This is in no way a proper feelings jam. This is at best an approximation,” she had said.

“It relieves my mind you’re going easy on me then, mistress,” Dave said.   




She tried not to push him too hard, but it was sometimes hard to tell when she should stop. There were times that he would keep talking about something, but everything he said would be tangerine lies or bitter green sarcasm. She would retaliate by being equally sarcastic, or going along with the lies, making them even more ridiculous than they were to begin with. There were times when he’d fall completely silent and just refuse to speak, and those were the times she usually backed off, knowing that if she pushed any harder, he’d snap or give up in a way that made her a little queasy because it made her smell rotten berries.

She preferred it when he shouted at her or ranted, even if she had to correct him because of it. The smell of his anger, of when she corrected him, was a smell like hot metal and water. After she corrected him, he would almost seem relieved, as if he had wanted to be stopped, because he didn’t know if he could stop himself. (At those times, it sometimes felt as if she were his moirail, though it really wasn’t the same--it couldn’t be. He wasn’t a troll, and didn’t really think like a troll at all.)   

Sometimes, Dave had daymares. He was never loud, but sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the day, and she would hear a strangled cry, or a shouted name, and smell tears. On other occasions, when she woke up in the evening, she would find him curled up on the couch in the meeting block instead of his bed, smelling of fear and curled up in a knot. He always woke up with a start once he sensed someone nearby, and he didn’t always relax when he recognized her. She would pretend she hadn’t noticed the reaction, though she found it upsetting.

She enlisted the aid of her team in moving into her new hive. She sent Dave on various errands that night, and had him setting up the office block with Pyrati. Once everything had been moved, she took her team to dinner. They spent most of the evening arguing in a friendly fashion, and even engaging in some dancing. Terezi couldn’t help the wistful grin as she watched her team engaging in a little quadrant flirting. Dave, who was sitting next to her murmured something in his own language. “What was that, Dave?” Terezi asked, glancing at him.

Dave flushed a little. “I said, ‘that’s a sad smile,’ mistress.”

“I was thinking of my quadrants,” Terezi said. “I would have liked for them to be here too, and my other friends.” Dave seemed interested and curious, but he didn’t ask any questions. She pretended that he had and talked a little about them, but not everything, and not the most important parts. Her matesprit Aradia, her kismesis Vriska, and the kids she had Flarped with when she had been a kid. She realized that she was being as careful with her past as Dave was with his. It made her feel a little guilty, then amused at herself for feeling guilty.

Eventually, her team mates decide to pull her into the dancing and she went along with it. They spent most of the evening talking before parting ways in the pre-dawn. The trip home was quiet, and Dave seemed particularly self-contained and thoughtful. She wanted to ask if there was anything wrong, but did not. It was a sad and wistful sort of silence, and she wondered if Dave might be missing someone, the way she was. He had mentioned a friend at the training facility, and his brother on a few occasions, but it seemed as if he had never had many friends. From her research, she knew that humans were supposed to be more gregarious that trolls, to the point of suffering fits of depression if isolated for long periods of time. Dave in some ways seemed more like a troll in his behavior patterns.

When they reached the new hive, she took her time showing him around. She saved his bedroom for last. “Go on, the door’s not going to bite,” she said when Dave hesitated before reaching for the knob. He opened the door and flipped on the light when he found it--and froze in the doorway, radiating pure _shock._

She had given him his own computer, a desk, a book shelf, a music grub rack, and replaced every piece of equipment that Dave’s previous owner had sold, plus all of his music. Terezi pushed past him, and perched on the edge of his sleeping platform. “Most of it is actually second and third hand,” she said as he went over to the turn tables and the sound system. “And I’m not sure if I set everything up correctly.”

“I--mistress, this is--why?” Dave asked, sounding dazed.

“It’s a reward for good work,” Terezi said. “And I wanted to.”   




She heard him turn to face her, and heard the rustle of fabric as he bowed formally. “Mistress, thank you,” he said. He remained in that position, bowed at the waist, his hands on his knees until she acknowledged him, placing her hand on his head.

“You can thank me by showing me how all of this works,” Terezi said, pushing him toward the turn tables when he had straightened.

During the next few nights, their schedules and patterns adjusted to fit in with the new hive and office block. Dave spent most of his time in his room when he wasn’t working. She’d hear music, or occasionally the sounds of a computer game. She left him to his own devices, unless she needed him for an errand or a sparring session. After a few more nights of keeping to his room, he began leaving his door open, an oblique sort of invitation that Terezi took advantage of. They would talk about music or the game he was playing, or she would just bring a book to read. Sometimes, she fell asleep on his sleeping platform, completely at ease in his company. Dave took to waking her up by gently tossing hard red candies on her after the first time it happened. (The first time, he had retreated to the meeting block and slept on the couch. She had awakened on her own from a day terror.) “Your method of waking me up is delicious but annoying,” she told him the first time he had awakened her in this manner.

“I’d rather not get my face clawed off for shouting, mistress,” Dave had said solemnly.  

“This is true. You may continue to pelt me with red candies...to wake me up if I fall asleep on your sleeping platform, Dave.”   




Terezi was in the middle of an initial report on a crime scene when there was a crashing noise from the waiting room. She was on her feet in an instant, unlogging a gun and sidling out of her office. She reached the door to the waiting room, and listened.

“Do you have any idea of who I am?” An entirely familiar and extremely unwelcome voice snarled from the office waiting room.

“It doesn’t matter who you are, highness,” Dave’s voice replied tightly. “If you don’t have an appointment, you don’t go past me.”

“I can have you culled.”

“Oh no, terror is making my hands shake,” Dave said in a monotone. “I’m so frightened my finger might convulsively pull the trigger.”

Terezi snickered, and opened the door, walking into the waiting room, her gun leading. She pointed it directly toward Ampora. “Your highness, why are you frightening my poor slave?” She was aware of Pyrati and Agneta waiting in the wings.

“I need to talk to you about Serket,” Eridan said. He sounded more flustered than angry, and even a little hurt.

Terezi held back a growl. She wasn’t surprised that he didn’t realize he wasn’t someone she ever wanted to see again. “Dave, stand down,” Terezi ordered, and stepped closer to the sea troll. He didn’t seem to be armed, but she didn’t bother lowering her gun. “Why would you need to do that, your highness.”

“We should talk about this in private, Ter,” Eridan said.

“Your highness, due to--please excuse my bluntness--filial concerns one does not retain a legislacerator to pursue her kismesis. I’d quote the exact precedents but won’t. Please leave your highness.”

“That’s not what this is about. Terezi--“ Eridan took a step closer.

Dave shot the floor in front of him. “Sorry mistress, my finger slipped,” he said over Eridan’s startled swearing.

“You’re paying for the floor tile, and I’m taking away computer privileges,” Terezi said. “Your highness, please. You’ve frightened my slave and ruined my floor. If you had bothered to arrange a proper appointment I might have been willing to refer you to legislacerators capable of dealing with Serket.

“Gods dammit Terezi--“ Eridan started.

“No, gods damn _you_ , your highness,” Terezi snarled. “Every last one of them. I am Neophyte Pryope, your highness, and I may not be worth your respect as a teal-blood, but you _will_ give respect to my profession.”

“What the fuckin’ hells--“ Eridan muttered, sounding so confused that Terezi just wanted to scream and hit things. Some of them being Eridan Ampora, but she couldn’t.

“Look Terezi, I don’t know what you think is going on here--“

Something went snap at his words and she was lunging forward--and then she was stopped, Agneta and Pyrati pulling her away from Eridan before she could reach him. Terezi struggled, but retained just enough sense not to try kicking and biting at her team members. “Your highness,” she heard Pyrati say. “The Neophyte said she wasn’t able to help you.”

“Fine,” Eridan said, and left the office in a swirl of sour grape anger.     




Terezi collapsed, and he herself be taken to one of the chairs in the waiting room and sat down. She curled up in the chair and concentrated on not screaming. She was aware of Agneta locking the doors and closing up, and Pyrati asking Dave to make some tea. “Boss, what was that about?” Pyrati asked stepping a little closer to her chair.

“Something about Vriska,” Terezi said when she could trust her voice. “It might be her luck finally ran out.” She wiped at her face. “I can’t imagine what the high blood thought he was doing.”

“Boss was there something...personal between you and that high blood? He knew your name.”

Terezi laughed, her voice sounding strangled and hoarse in her ears. “He was someone Vriska would Flarp with. They were kismesis when they were kids, or at least they played at it. His name is Eridan Ampora.” She took a deep breath, and wiped her face. “You might have heard of him.”

“Eridan...that’s the Dualscar guy, right?” Agneta, a former Flarper herself asked. “You ran in some pretty high blooded circles.”

Terezi snorted. “I’m not high blooded enough to run in high blooded circles.” She stood up. “Tell Dave I’ll take the tea in my office. We can open back up in a couple hours.” Agneta and Pyrati murmured their assent and she retreated to her office.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dave did not say it was a sad smile. He said it was a heartbreaking one.


	6. In which Dave considers his loyalties and provides the Neophyte with a listening ear

Somehow, everything had gone from “okay” to “comfortable.” He was doing work that was interesting, he was learning all kinds of things, doing things he never would have even thought to dream of doing. He had his own room, instead of having to share it and he had his music. He liked where he was and he was comfortable and that was bad.

Dave didn’t trust comfortable. When you got used to something, when you started liking something, then that was when they took it away from you. That’s when it got ruined because you stopped thinking and did something stupid. When you got used to something, you forgot there were limits. That there were things that you couldn’t do and couldn’t say. When he became too comfortable, he would start becoming afraid he would forget, and then when he did forget, he’d get his face ground into the way things really were.

But the thing that always happened kept not happening. Pyrope could be demanding, and had a habit of setting the hottest verbal irons to his ass, as if she needed to keep on her game all the time, and he was something to sharpen her wits on, but she listened, too. He could say almost anything he wanted to her, and if he fucked up somewhere, if he lost his shit on her, she could put it back together. Put _him_ back together. It was fucking ridiculous how much that meant to him. That Pyrope treated him like someone she wanted to keep in one functional piece instead of something convenient that could be replaced as necessary.

It was even more ridiculous how much he _liked_ Pyrope. He liked Pyrope and he liked her team, even though he knew it was crazy to. Troll think pans were not really wired for “like.” The best they could do was “tolerate” and even that was so near-impossible their word for “friend” also meant “enemy” and they thought real, actual friendship was a form of romance. But despite the vast gulf between them as far as brain wiring went, he liked Pyrope, who was basically all knives and barbed wire and manic energy. Who replaced the equipment he lost as if she wasn’t doing anything special, and hadn’t acted as if what she’d done was something he’d have to pay back in some way. He liked her even if she didn’t, couldn’t like him, not the way a human could like another human.

So he didn’t think twice about holding off a sea troll who was trying to blow past him to see Pyrope.

The prince didn’t have an appointment, and wasn’t one of their clients who could technically get away with asking for a meeting without an appointment. He had just swooped in like he owned the place and everyone in it, demanding to speak to Pyrope, and not even bothering to use polite language.

“I’m sorry your highness,” Dave had said as calmly as he could manage, “if you don’t have an appointment, we can arrange one--“ The noble ignored him, and made a move for the door to the rest of the office block. Dave unlogged his handgun and rose to his feet, pointing the muzzle at the noble’s midsection. The sea troll’s expression was incredulous, then outraged.

The prince blew a lot of hot air, but the commotion drew Pyrope’s attention, which had been Dave’s intent all along. Pyrope argued with the sea troll, who was apparently someone she’d known when she was a kid. Someone she knew, and wasn’t shy about yelling at, or trying to attack, though Dave wasn’t at all sure about what flipped her switch from professional outrage to grimdark. The sea troll left, looking more bewildered than anything else, and Pyrati sent him off to make tea. 

Dave hadn’t been the least bit frightened, but by the time he got to the communal socialization area, he was shaking. Terror shivered all up and down his spine and there was a sour taste at the back of his throat. The noble could have him culled, if he decided to be insulted about being held at gunpoint by a slave, but that was only part of the reason he was shaking. What had scared him, what kept playing itself in his head was the moment Pyrope lunged at the noble. The noble could have him culled, what a sufficiently insulted noble might do to Pyrope would be a lot worse than culling.

What hit him was that he was afraid _for_ Pyrope, as if she needed to be protected. As if he should be able to protect her. The only thing he could think about was, what if Pyrati and Agneta hadn’t been fast enough? It wasn’t only a “what will happen to me?” sort of feeling. It was also a “what will happen to her?” feeling, and it left him sick to his stomach and cold all over.

“Dave?”

Dave jumped a little and turned to face Agneta, who was standing in the doorway. “Yes, boss?” he asked.

“The boss says to bring the tea to her office,” Agneta said.

Dave nodded. “Right, I’ll do that.” He busied himself with finding the tea, heating the water and other small tasks. He wasn’t so absorbed that he didn’t notice that Agneta hadn’t left the room, however. Instead, she took a soda out of the thermal hull and went to lean against the counter.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked.

“I’m fine, boss,” Dave said. “Despite mistress’ claims, I am not easily frightened.”

“You are the rock no wave could batter,” Agneta said, her tone slightly mocking. “There must be some strange human ritual reason for scattering the tea all over the counter.”

Dave looked down at the loose leaf tea he’d just dusted the counter with. “It’s a method of divination. I’m trying to see the future.”

Agneta snorted. “Your future is ‘wash your face and let Agneta make the tea.’” She took him by the arm, steered him toward the sink. Then she cleaned up the mess he’d made, and measured out the leaves into a ball and dropped it in the bubbling water. Dave washed his face, though it didn’t do much to make him feel better. “You should probably bring her lunch as well. She won’t want to eat, but she probably should.”

Dave went to get Pyrope’s lunch box, and started setting up a tray. “She’s probably more likely to throw it at me.”

“Oh, if I tried to remind her to eat, she’d be upset. You can probably get away with it,” Agneta said.

“Why would you think that, boss?” Dave asked.

“That’s a really stupid question, so I’m going to pretend you were being disingenuous,” Agneta. She set the little pot of tea and two ceramic cups on the tray. Dave was about to question the second cup but she just click-growled at him, so he shut up. She handed him the tray. “Pour her a cup. If she tells you to sit down, pour yourself a cup. Try to get her to jam, if not, just keep her company.”

“What, like I was her moirail? Boss, I’m not even a troll, how--“

“Just go, Dave,” Agneta said, sounding a little exasperated. She nudged him into the hallway.

When he got to Pyrope’s office he knocked before letting himself in. He found Pyrope sitting at the desk, her hands folded on the surface, and her head bowed. She didn’t acknowledge his presence, sitting so still she seemed frozen. It was somehow scarier than if she had been knocking over her desk and raging, that completely frozen quiet. He wanted to say something, to ask her if she was all right, but the words just wouldn’t come.

Dave set the tray down and poured Pyrope a cup of tea. He set the cup down, and after a moment, she took the cup, turning her face in his direction. She looked flushed and as if she might cry, but then her expression blanked into something calm and neutral. “Did Agneta tell you stay?”

“She suggested it,” Dave said. “Should I go?”

Pyrope sighed. “No. Sit and have some tea.”

Dave obeyed, feeling awkward and unsure of what to do. He was pretty sure he didn’t understand half of what had happened in the waiting room, but he didn’t know what--or how to ask about it. And Agneta expected him to have a feelings jam with Pyrope about it. “Mistress, may I ask a question?” He asked after several minutes.

She tilted her face toward him. “What about?”

“About what happened in the waiting room, between you and the prince,” Dave said. “What was his purpose in coming here? I mean, why would he come here himself to tell you about your kismesis?”

“The shortest answer is ‘politics,’” Pyrope said. “Lord Ampora expected a reaction from me, but not the one I gave him.” She smiled, and snagged one of the sandwiches from the tray, biting off a corner. “Dave, what would a human do if their lover were in danger?”

“They’d...try to help them somehow,” Dave said. “But she was your kismesis--would a troll care if their kismesis was in danger?” He didn’t think that was too likely. From what he’d seen, “black romance” seemed like a euphemism for assault, especially if there was a big difference between the ranks of the two people getting caliginous with each other.  

“There are reasons to rescue a kismesis. Filial duties, for one.” She smiled briefly, a small brittle expression. “And of course, rivals can be political allies.”

Dave recalled Agneta and the other team members talking about Terezi’s kismesis having something to do with the Heiress (and remembered Terezi denying that she had anything to do with whatever it was that her kismesis did for the Heiress). He wanted to ask about it, but it seemed to be too close to something he probably shouldn’t ask. He tried to recall if he had heard anything recently about the Heiress, but nothing came immediately to mind, thought It seemed that she was always in the news lately. Generally, Dave didn’t care about what she had to say. It wasn’t as if anything she talked about had anything to do with him. “But you’re not going to try to help her,” he said after a few minutes of thought. 

 “I’m a Neophyte Legislacerator, there is in the end very little I can do to help Vriska Serket legally,” Pyrope said calmly. “I certainly can’t go rushing off like a hero in an adventure movie to rescue Vriska from her own folly.”

 “I guess not, mistress,” Dave said. “But why would Lord Ampora think otherwise?”

 “Good question. I suppose we’ll find out eventually,” Pyrope said.

After lunch, the office reopened and it was quiet for the rest of the evening. After work, they ate at a café and then Pyrope decided to go shopping. They took a public transport to a nearby shopping mall. While they wandered from shop to shop, Pyrope spent a lot of time talking about Vriska, and about Flarping. (Some kind of roleplaying game where you used real weapons and you could potentially get yourself severely maimed or even killed.) Dave learned a lot more about Vriska and Pyrope’s relationship than he ever wanted to know. Pyrope talked about having been blinded by the girl who would become her kismesis with a sort of bizarre fondness.

She mentioned other things they had done to each other over the years; unnerving things that made Dave feel a little uneasy. Not so much because of the casual attitude toward violence--that didn’t really bother him at all. It was the sad and almost dreamy way she talked about it. He was in the Uncanny Valley taking a walk with an alien woman listening to her talk about assault and battery like a human woman might talk about a romantic night of dinner and dancing. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he was; he could see that she needed to talk about it, that whatever her relationship was with Vriska, it was something important to her.

When they got home, Pyrope disappeared into her respite block, and Dave retreated to his. He put some music on and grabbed one of his digital books off his shelf. He was about midway through the book when he realized that Pyrope was standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. “Mistress?” He asked, wondering how long she’d just been standing there before he had noticed..

“Tomorrow, I’m going to need you to run some errands for me.”

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said. He might have gone back to his book, but Pyrope was still standing in his doorway. “Is there anything else?” he asked after a few beats.

A strange unreadable look flickered across Pyrope’s face. “Come here,” she said.

He hesitated only a moment before obeying. When he reached her, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, her face pressed to his chest. Dave froze, not sure of what to do at first, then tentatively returned the hug. “Mistress?” He couldn’t keep the uneasiness out of his voice, or the confusion.

“This is stupid,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. “I know it’s stupid, but could you sleep in my respite block today?”

“If that’s what you want, mistress,” Dave said, and let her take him by the hand and tug him down the short hallway to her respite block.  

 


	7. In which the Neophyte discloses her thoughts and feelings to her slave in a very pale manner

Her mind chased after its own tail like a barkbeast as she tried to find out what had happened to Vriska. There was nothing in the news about anything having happened with the Heiress. There was also nothing in the news about Vriska Serket. She checked both the mainstream news stations and sites and her other sources of information. Her contacts didn’t know anything useful, and a lack of official news didn’t mean anything.

She left a message in a secure memo about Ampora looking for Serket, then turned to trying to find out as much about Ampora as she could. She didn’t find out much. He was staying at a resort near the ocean. (Oddly enough, he’d picked one that usually catered to mid-level blues. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to be inconspicuous or if he’d finally learned the value of money and was trying to be frugal. If he was trying to be inconspicuous, it really wasn’t working.)

Terezi sighed to herself and pushed away from her computer. She almost, almost regretted not talking to Ampora immediately. It would have been almost completely out of character, but maybe she could have gotten some useful information out of him. She remembered the bewilderment in his tone of voice, and wished she understood what it meant. She wondered what it meant that he’d turn up after so long with Serket’s name and the apparent expectation that she’d go along with whatever it was he had in mind.

She thought back to earlier in the evening. She thought about Dave playing moirail at Agneta’s instigation, answering her question about lovers. “They’d try to help them somehow,” he had said, and then, “but she was your kismesis--would a troll care if their kismesis was in danger?” The answer to the question was always yes. If it was ever no, then you were no longer caliginous for your lover, or your lover was dead. Dave didn’t understand that though. He couldn’t, though he’d listened with something resembling sympathy when she’d rambled on about Serket. It had been sympathy, but with an underlying uneasiness and a queasy sort of horror that smelled sharp and sour. 

“I want an unbiased auricular sponge,” Terezi said out loud, and stretched. Her spine and joints crackled, suggesting that she’d been sitting for too long in one position. She got up and paced, thinking about it. If she laid it all out, or at least as much as she could to someone who had never been involved, who should she pick? The answer was there, hovering at the back of her mind, but she didn’t trust it. The answer was: the one who just became involved because he pulled a gun on a high blood like it wasn’t even an issue. She would bet that he hadn’t even hesitated, the way Pyrati or Agneta might have. She wanted to lay it all out for Dave, explain everything and see what he’d say, because she trusted his opinion.

The reason she didn’t trust the feeling that said “confide,” was because the complete feeling was _confide in your moirail._ And she couldn’t, because he wasn’t. He understood moiraillegiance about as well as he understood kismesis, which was not at all. He could not be her “moirail” despite whatever strange matchmaking impulses seemed to be plaguing Agneta. (Terezi thought that she was going to have to have a word with her about that, even if it had actually helped.) He wasn’t a troll, and what he understood about trolls were shadows on a wall. But her instincts said “confide in him.”

She wandered from her respite block to his. His door was ajar the way it often was in the morning before he went to bed. (It had no lock, but she had decided early on to respect a closed door by announcing herself before entering.) She found him sitting on his bed, reading a digital book. She leaned against the jamb and watched him for a while. After a few moments, he took notice of her. “Mistress?” he asked, and set his book down.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to need you to run some errands for me,” Terezi said.

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said and then after a few moments, when she didn’t retreat, “is there anything else?” She could hear the puzzled frown in his voice.

“Come here,” Terezi said.   




Dave held himself very still for a moment, then she heard the sound of the bed shifting as he got up and stepped over to her. Terezi stepped forward, sliding her arms around Dave’s waist, her face buried in his chest. He stood stiffly for a moment before hesitantly returning the embrace. “Mistress?” He asked in an uneasy tone. 

“This is stupid,” she said, listening to his heart beating. She meant; _I know this is confusing._ “I know it’s stupid, but could you sleep in my respite block today?” She meant; _I need someone to listen to me._

“If that’s what you want, mistress,” Dave said, his voice blank with confusion.

Terezi took Dave by the hand and drew him to her respite block. His hand was warm in hers and trembled slightly. She could sense that he was confused, and a little frightened, all the questions he wasn’t asking hovering all around him in the way he moved, the way he breathed. She had heard both Pyrati and Agneta commenting that Dave had the perfect stone face, but to her, he was completely open, unable to hide what he was thinking or feeling.

She let go of his hand to lock the door and set the security wire then turned back to Dave. She slid an arm around his waist and leaned against him. He drew in a shaky breath, but didn’t tense this time. “I just want to talk to you Dave, then we’ll go to sleep.”

“In the recuperacoon?” There were whole new levels of _what the fucking hell_ in his tone, while still being blandly inoffensive at the same time.

“No, I’ll make you a pile,” Terezi said with a snicker. “You’d probably drown, and even if you didn’t, the sopor would probably make you sick.” She went to the closet and pulled out floor pillows and throws. She arranged them in a pile and wouldn’t let Dave help her. “No, you won’t do it right,” she said, and stacked the pillows and throws into a heap near the recuperacoon.   




“Mistress--what is this about?” She could hear him shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“We’re having a feelings jam,” Terezi said. She drew him down to sit in the pile beside her. They were sitting side by side, with their backs to the recuperacoon. She leaned against his shoulder, her arm wrapped around his. “This is your first time, so I’ll try to be gentle.”

He laughed; his voice sounded strained. “You haven’t been gentle before, why start now?”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m going to tell you things I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “Things I can’t tell my team.”

Dave went very still and at the same time, his breath hitched. He was quiet for a moment. “Mistress,” he said in a careful tone. “Does this have to do with Lord Ampora and whatever your kismesis is involved with?”

“My vascular pump just skipped a beat, Dave,” Terezi said, shifting a little. “Your deductive reasoning cut straight to the matter at hand.” She was not impressed, impressed would imply that she hadn’t known how smart Dave was. That she was surprised that he had figured out a connection between Ampora and her kismesis. So, she wasn’t impressed; she was pleased. His hand was resting palm up on her leg now. She traced the lines in his palm absently. He twitched and shivered when she did that, but he didn’t pull away. “What else have you figured out?”

“I’ve been trying not to figure out anything,” Dave said. “It’s nothing to do with me.” His voice shook when he spoke. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of that.

It was an interesting thing for him to say. What exactly had Dave figured out, or thought he had? Was it loyalty or fear of being in a situation over his head that motivated him to conceal his suspicions? These were not questions she could ask and get a straight answer on. “What has nothing to do with you?” Terezi asked.

“Whatever your kismesis is involved with mistress, that you’re worried Lord Ampora might know about,” Dave said. “Troll politics has nothing to do with me, so I don’t pay attention to it.” His voice grew a little stronger at the last, a little more certain.

“You’re as involved as I am, if only because you’re part of my personal assets,” Terezi said. She wanted to tell him no, these politics had everything to do with him, and not just because of her involvement.   




“So if I’m seized, I still don’t know anything useful or incriminating,” Dave said. The last was said nearly as a challenge. Beneath that strange note of challenge was a thread of concern.

Terezi was almost certain that thread of concern was for her, and not for his own safety. It made her feel ridiculously light and happy. “What we’re doing is not technically illegal. Just politically dangerous, Dave.” She could sense that Dave was less than convinced by this statement. She laughed at him. “Dave, what do you know about the Heiress? Not the Person, the position.”

There was a frown in his voice. “Um. Something like a _vice president_. She has some responsibilities, like speaking to the Senate and some ceremonial functions, but she’s mostly there to create a clear line of succession.”

“And eventually, challenge Her Imperial Condescension,” Terezi said. “Normally, those kind of politics are a little too deep for any but high bloods to swim in, but the circumstances surrounding this Heiress’ case are a little different.”

_“What, y’all have waterwings?”_ He spoke in his own language, but his toneradiated sarcasm.

“Dave, do you want me to make you translate that?” Terezi asked.

He twitched slightly at that, embarrassed but not especially chastened. “No, mistress. I don’t think it would translate very well, anyway.”

Terezi snickered, and didn’t press for a translation. “We’re going too far afield. This wasn’t exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” She released his hand and shifted so that she leaned back against her recuperacoon. “I want to give you the background on what happened earlier.”

“Background you won’t give your team?” The uneasiness in his tone was back.

“Background you could figure out most of from what I said all ready,” Terezi returned. “Background about a situation you stepped into.”

“Background you’re trusting me with because--?” He asked tightly.

“Because I said so, Dave,” Terezi said. The reason for his reluctance was easy to understand. This was water deeper than it was safe to swim, and here she was splashing complicity all over the place. “Because you might see something I don’t.” Before he could say anything else, she shooshed him and he fell silent. “Eridan Ampora and Vriska Serket were briefly kismesis in that weird flippy way kids sometimes are, only Eridan flipped a lot more than Vriska could deal with so she dumped him. Eridan was also in a moiraillegiance with the Heiress, but the Heiress broke that off because of reasons.” There was a soft snort from Dave at that, but Terezi ignored it. “The Heiress was building her power base early because of a few assassination attempts and some...unfriendly overtures that would have made her too much of a figurehead.”

“Ampora continued to be a hanger-on, but kept interfering with the Heiress’ quadrants. For a while he was obsessing over the lowbloods she was associating with and generally causing trouble. Then after one of the lowbloods, a powerful psionic kicked his nook up between his teeth he disappeared for a while. When he turned up again, he made a move against Feferi, and when the water cleared, Feferi was badly wounded, the lowblood psionic was missing and two of her highblood supporters were dead.” Sollux, Gamzee and Equius; thinking about them, about that day was surprisingly upsetting, even now, sweeps after the event.  

“This was a very severe blow for Feferi on a number of levels. We decided that the best thing we could do to protect her was pretend disaffection and spread out as much as possible. We’ve managed to rebuild some of her support and we’ve managed to make some headway, but now my kismesis is missing, and Eridan Ampora turns up acting as if I shouldn’t have reason to rip his face off.”

“If he thinks you’re ‘disaffected,’” Dave said hesitantly.

Terezi shook her head. “My matesprit was Sollux’ moirail,” she said. “I’d want to make him pay even if Sollux wasn’t also my friend.”

“So, maybe he doesn’t know that, or doesn’t remember,” Dave said. “How come you didn’t ‘make him pay’ back then?”

Terezi tilted her head so that she was facing Dave. “He managed to get off-world early. We think he had a sponsor or he used Sollux as a bribe.” Dave made an inquiring sort of sound, and Terezi explained. “He was an extremely high level psionic. The kind that they use to power the ships.”

_“Jesus,”_ Dave said.

She had heard him using that word when something particularly awful or exasperating happened. “Yes, Jegus,” she said. “Ampora sold him--or had him sold--as a Helmsman. We haven’t been able to find him, and Ampora was beyond our reach as well, protected by his sponsor.” She thought about Dave’s suggestion for a while. “It would fit with Ampora’s character that he might not remember I’d have reason to want nothing to do with him,” Terezi decided. “But I’m not sure if it explains all of his reaction, or why he’d come to me about Vriska. I need to speak to him and find out what he knows or doesn’t know.”

“Maybe he still has a thing for your kismesis,” Dave suggested.

“Red or black?” It had been a thought she’d been considering as well. There was also the possibility that he’d been sent to draw her out for some reason, which was one of the reasons she’d completely rejected his offer.  

She heard him shrug. “I wouldn’t know, mistress. It was just a thought.”

“It’s something to think about,” Terezi said, and stood up. “We should get some sleep.” She stripped out of her clothes, which prompted a strange, strangled sort of sound from Dave. She laughed, and slid into her recuperacoon. “Tomorrow, we’ll go over your errands. You’ll need to be especially careful,” she said.

She heard Dave shifting on the pile of pillows. “Yes, mistress,” he said. He was quiet for a while, his breaths slow and even, though she could tell he wasn’t asleep yet. “Mistress?” He asked softly, as if he thought she might be asleep.

“Hm?”

“Why your respite block?”

“None of my quadrants are here,” she said. “And across the hall is too far away.” Dave muttered something in his own language. “What does ‘ _wai am ai yo’ sekkertee blanket_ ’ mean, Dave?” She asked, sounding out the words.

“It’s a traditional blessing said before going to sleep, mistress,” Dave said. “It’s a wish that you have pleasant dreams.”

Terezi strongly suspected he was lying, but the sopor dragged her under before she could say anything about it.

 

****


	8. In which Dave considers what he has learned, and defends his mistress’ property

He lay in the dark of the windowless respite block and listened to Pyrope breathe. The smell of the sopor reminded him a little of maple syrup, and made him think of pancakes, though he wasn’t really hungry. His hand still itched and tickled, ridiculously hypersensitive after Terezi had run her fingers and nails over every nerve in his goddamn palm. He scrubbed his hand on his shirt and then laid it flat against the warm, slick side of the recuperacoon. The heat soaked in, eventually taking care of the ticklish feeling and he let his hand drop down at his side.

There was no way he was getting to sleep any time soon, but he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Took deep breathes and tried to at least wind down, if he couldn’t sleep. Bits and pieces of their “feelings jam” came back to him. It scared him a little, that she had trusted him with so much information. That she had revealed so much to him.

What had been almost as unnerving was the way that she had touched him. It wasn’t that she had never touched him before, but this had felt different somehow. It had done strange things to his heart when she had first hugged him, and later when she leaned against him, toying with his hand. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond. _This is stupid. I know this is stupid._ She had said it as if she were trying to apologize. As if she were asking him for a favor.

(He really needed to stop thinking about it.)

Sleep when it came was filled with uneasy dreams. Fire and gunshots in the night, being trapped alone in the dark, memories and recurring nightmares that kept waking him back up. At one point, he awoke in a panic, heart hammering, half convinced that there was someone pinning him down. He thrashed, trying to break a hold that didn’t exist, a strangled noise rasping his throat before he could stop himself.

He made enough noise that Terezi stirred within her recuperacoon. She made a questioning sound, a sort of sleepy trill. For a moment, he couldn’t find the voice to speak. “I’m sorry, mistress,” he said finally. “I should go--“

Her head appeared over the side of her recuperacoon. The faint lights from her computer reflected eerily from her eyes and horns. “I want you in here,” she said. “You aren’t disturbing me at all. I already know you have daymares Dave.” She slid back down into her recuperacoon. The sopor sloshed as she settled in. “I can smell them on you in the evening when I find you on the couch in the meeting block. I can hear you trying not to cry out in the middle of the day. I smell your fear and hear your pulse racing if I step wrong walking past your room,” she said in a soft voice.

“I can’t tell if that’s ‘I know your weaknesses,’ or ‘I feel sorry for them,’” Dave said, his voice shaking a little. He felt naked and raw, completely exposed to her, open in a way that wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been. It was a feeling he was almost used to, by now.

She laughed. “I know. Go to sleep Dave.”  

Dave stifled a sigh and turned onto his side. After what seemed like forever, he was able to drift off into sleep. When he woke up again, it was because Pyrope was sliding out of the recuperacoon. She turned up the light a little, and put on a robe. She turned in his direction as he started to sit up. “You can sleep a little longer, Dave,” she said before he could say anything.

“I’m not tired, mistress,” he said.

“You can put the pile away then,” Pyrope said, and padded out of the respite block. A few minutes later, he could hear the shower running.

Dave put the floor pillows and throws back in the closet. Inspired by a slightly passive-aggressive impulse, he set out one of her business suits for Pyrope, as if he were her valet. He went into the other ablution block and cleaned up before heading into the food preparation block to make tea and breakfast. He was about midway through breakfast when Pyrope appeared, heading for the thermal hull. She took out a box of pastries and made herself a plate, and poured herself some tea. It was almost a normal evening.

The list of errands was almost disappointingly mundane, just the same errands she usually sent him on.  Apparently, he was not living in a political thriller. Maybe it was satire instead. Pyrope caught the look on his face and snickered. “The main concern is keeping you out of the office, in case he decides to come back. Out of sight, out of mind,” she said. In a more serious tone, she continued, “if you think you’re being followed, I want you to head for Mediate’s hive.”

The idea of heading to the hive of a drone without an invitation made Dave feel a little uneasy. “Is there anything I should tell him?” Dave asked.

Pyrope gave him a narrow smile. “You can tell him as much as I’ve told you,” she said. “Call me from there, and I’ll pick you up.”

Dave nodded. “Yes, mistress.”

“Once you get done with your errands, you can do some of the office work from your computer,” Terezi said, finishing off her pastry. “And remember to make sure the wire is activated.”

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said, and got up to put his plate in the washer. Pyrope finished her breakfast, and headed out the door, calling over the shoulder that she had left the card to her transport on his desk.

Running his errands that night was a strange experience. He felt hyper-aware of his surroundings, as if his nerves had been threaded through a sensor array. Every transport passing by, every troll he met on the street seemed like a potential threat. It made him feel paranoid and jittery. Eventually he calmed down; listing all the reasons it was stupid to be jittery. He was armed. He was careful. There was no need to fly off any handles. Pyrope just wanted him out of the office in case that noble came back for blood.

The first errand was picking up Pyrope’s suits from the cleaners. Dave remembered to tip the cleaner because some repair work had been done. (Ripped and stained embroidery, a few random tears and punctures, nothing too serious.) Then he went to the book store and picked up some books that Pyrope had ordered. (Since he was going to be working from home anyway, he couldn’t resist doing a little browsing before heading to his next stop on the errand list.)  He went to the grocery store last, and ended up talking to a troll he had seen at the store once or twice. (Milus was a former soldier who was now a gendarmedecimator. He was also a gossipy old man)

When he got home, something was wrong. When he got in the door, he found that the wire had been switched off. If Pyrope were home early, the wire would have still been on. Dave unlogged one of his guns, and very gingerly stepped inside. The meeting block was quiet and undisturbed, but upstairs, Dave thought he heard a thump. He thought of backing out very slowly and calling Pyrope. Instead, he approached to door to the stairwell. The door was slightly ajar. Keeping close to the wall, he toed the door open. He took a breath, and said loudly, “mistress, I’m back from shopping, should I make something for supper?”

There was no answer, which meant that either he was hearing things and no one was there, or there was someone up there who was breathing a sigh of relief because it was the slave and not the legislacerator who had just come home. Or maybe Pyrope was standing in the hall at the top of the stairs getting ready to jump out and shout, “boo!” Dave went up the stairs as quietly as possible, pausing just before the landing, where the stairwell turned. He still couldn’t hear anything.

Then there was a step.

Dave froze, and pressed against the wall.

There was another step, another two steps. 

Dave stepped up quickly onto the landing and turned. His mind processed-- _not Terezi, has a gun_ \--and fired. First, the shoulder of the gun arm, and then the kneecap when the first shot drove the troll back. The troll’s gun fell and landed against the back wall of the landing. Dave lunged forward. “Don’t move,” He snarled, holding the gun on--

Lord Ampora. Jesus fucking Christ.

He didn’t quite fall back with horrified dismay, but it was close. His gun might have wavered for a second. The sea troll looked a little shocky from the pain, and like he was thinking of passing out, but oddly enough, wasn’t shouting threats, just staring at him. Dave swallowed, and reached for his phone, not taking his eyes off Ampora. He dialed Pyrope. It buzzed once. “Dave?”

It took Dave a few seconds to remember how to talk. “Mistress,” he said, his voice sounding a little shaky.  “I’m at home. We had an unexpected visitor.”

“Are you all right, Dave?” Pyrope asked immediately.

“It’s Lord Ampora mistress.” Dave said. “I shot him. Twice. I’m going to call the gendarmedecimators now.” He disconnected the call, ignoring Terezi’s protest.

He called the gendarmedecimators, and rendered some basic first aid to the now-unconscious Lord Ampora. By the time they arrived, he had moved Ampora to the meeting block and stopped the bleeding. He had left the gun in the stairwell, and set his own gun in plain view for the gendarmedecimators. The officers who answered the call secured the scene, and paramedinstigators removed Lord Ampora.

Everything seemed to go strange after that. He remembered answering the officers’ questions, and being taken to the station, where he had to answer the same questions over again. He remembered answering the questions with as much detail as possible. He talked about the first incident when Ampora had entered the office, and about coming home to find that the house had been invaded. No, he didn’t know the exact history between Pyrope and Ampora, he just knew they were not-quite enemies because of a bad situation. No he couldn’t go into more detail than that, the information was confidential.

What was going on in the back of his head the entire time was _I am dead, I am dead, I am dead_. What he felt wasn’t fear, exactly, it was more of a numb horror accompanied by a vague worry for Pyrope. There was no way he was going to survive this. Even if Pyrope could get Ampora charged with home invasion, Lord Ampora was going to have him culled. He knew that this was going to happen, and was distantly offended by the way the inspectors kept assuring him that he’d done the right thing in defending the legislacertator’s home, and he wasn’t going to be punished.  The inspectors, who had both worked with Pyrope on several occasions, were being oddly careful with him, as if they thought he might explode. They took him to a holding cell with padded walls and he sort of folded up in a corner and shook for a while.

He wasn’t quite sure how long he was like that. He fell asleep at some point, because he started awake when the door opened. “...possible psychic trauma, Neophyte,” an officer was saying as Pyrope stepped into the room.

“Ampora isn’t psychic, officer,” Pyrope said over her shoulder as she entered.

She looked extremely frazzled, and extremely angry. He just stared up at her, not able to speak or explain himself. Something in her expression changed, and she knelt down beside him. She touched his face, her fingers cool against his temples as she brushed his hair back. He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, mistress,” he said. “I didn’t know it was Lord Ampora until after I shot him.”

“You did the right thing. You did absolutely the right thing,” Pyrope said, stroking his hair now.

“He’s a highblood. A really highblood. Shooting was absolutely the wrong thing,” Dave said.

“Between two of you, I’d rather it was him that gets shot, Dave,” she said. She pulled him up into her arms. He didn’t resist as she held him, still stroking his hair, his face. His head was resting on her chest, her angles and corners fitting around him in a way that was strangely comforting. “It’s okay, Dave,” Terezi said softly. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“It’s kind of shitty to lie to me, mistress,” Dave said. “Any charge you put against him will slide right off, and he can order you to put me down.” He took a shaky breath. “Even if he does get convicted. You might as well do it now, and save yourself the trouble.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Terezi said. “No one’s going to cull you, not Ampora, not anyone.” She hugged him a little tighter. “And we are not having the tearful farewell scene before I cut your fucking throat, you melodramatic hoofbeast-sphincter.”

“Mistress,” Dave began, but she shooshed him.

“Shut up Dave, you are basically embarrassing me and every person who ever pitied or hated you.” She kept stroking his hair and cuddling him. After a while, she reached into her suit pocket, and pulled out a packet that she opened. “This is a sedative, they’re chewable.” She gave him the tablets, and he obediently chewed them up and swallowed. He fell asleep to her murmured reassurances, dreamily content, and not really anticipating waking back up.


	9. In which the Neophyte deals gently with her slave and harshly with a better

When Dave finally fell asleep, Terezi reluctantly separated herself from him. She settled him onto his side, and briefly brushed her hand through his hair before getting to her feet. She glanced over at the gendarme-inspectors waiting for her in the doorway. “I called for a member of my team to meet me at the station, has he arrived yet?”

“We can find out, Neophyte,” Inspector Trey said.

“I’ll go see,” Trey’s partner, Algiz said.

“I should thank you for putting him in an isolation cell,” Terezi said.

The inspector shrugged. “There was no reason to put him in general holding, Neophyte. We didn’t arrest him, we just took him in for questioning--which he cooperated with fully.” Trey paused for a moment. “Will you be pressing charges, Neophyte Pyrope?”

“Probably,” Terezi said. “Do I need to make any further statements about this incident? And how long until my hive is no longer a crime scene?”

The inspector sounded apologetic. “They should be wrapping up in a few hours Neophyte. I can recommend a cleaning service.”

Terezi thanked the inspector and put the number on her phone. She asked for, and received Dave’s sylladex.  After that, they spoke about things that had nothing to do with the case, polite social noise that didn’t mean anything. She was fairly certain that he did have questions about the situation, but was willing to pretend that this was only a simple home invasion. Then Algiz arrived with Pyrati, and both inspectors absconded.  

“Is he all right?” Pyrati asked, glancing down at Dave.

“Aside from having a breakdown after shooting seadweller royalty, not very,” Terezi admitted. “Could you look after him while I run some errands?”

“Of course, boss,” Pyrati said, and helped Terezi pick Dave up. They carried Dave to Pyrati’s transport and settled him into the backseat. Pyrati was quiet as they got into the transport. Once they were on the road, he broke the silence with an uneasy “boss? What is the situation between you and this Ampora guy? Why would he be doing his own home-invading?”

“Both good questions,” Terezi said. “I’m still working on the answer.” She was trying for a flippant tone, but she couldn’t quite hit the mark. “I promise I’ll tell the whole team, tomorrow,” she said in the most conciliatory tone she could manage.

Pyrati shot her an unreadable look before nodding. The ride to Pyrati’s hive was uneventful and quiet. They carried Dave inside, and settled him on a couch. Pyrati went to make tea while Terezi made a few phone calls. The first call was to Mediates, because she wanted his advice. This was the longest call. Mediates questioned her thoroughly, and she held very little back. He told her to report to him tomorrow and then ended the call. Then she called the seadweller hospice where Ampora had been taken, requesting an interview. Next, she confirmed when the gendarmedecimators would be finished with their investigation. Then she called the cleaning service. Somewhere between the first and second calls, she heard Dave stirring restlessly in his sleep. After the third call, she went to check on him.

Dave woke up as she walked into the meeting block. He smelled exhausted and wrung out, empty, and he didn’t greet her or ask her if there was anything she wanted. It felt as if he were waiting for something, but wasn’t sure what he would get. Terezi knelt down by the couch, and resisted the urge to touch him, because she wasn’t sure how he’d react to being touched at this point. “You managed to interrupt him before he could find a way break into my computer,” She said. “Or blow it up.” Dave didn’t say anything, so she kept talking. “You’ll be staying here with Pyrati while I go supervise the cleanup.”

“And then what, mistress?” Dave asked in a dull, mechanical sounding voice.

“You’ll rest and go back to work,” Terezi said.

He said something biting and bitter in his own language.

“’Yew maht az well git th’most werk yew cane outta me,’ means what, Dave?” Terezi asked. He translated it into Alternian. “Yes, I plan on getting as much work out of you as I can, for your entire lifespan,” Terezi said. “Which I will not allow to be significantly shortened by anyone.”

“You can’t promise something like that,” Dave said. “And you don’t need to, _stick your neck out for me_ , mistress,” Dave said, slipping into his own language, and then out of it. “That means help me when you don’t have to.”  

“If you keep speaking human, I’m going to have learn it,” Terezi said. She started to say more, but Pyrati came in with tea and sandwiches.

“If I’m not interrupting a feelings jam or anything,” Pyrati said, and set the tray down on a low table. To Dave he said, “Do you think you can keep something down?”

“Sure boss,” Dave said. “I’m no delicate flower.” His voice sounded hollow and gray. He sat up slowly, setting his feet on the floor.

Terezi stayed on the floor, shifting her position so that she was sitting cross-legged, with her shoulder against David’s legs. She felt him shiver a little, and sensed he was extremely disturbed by their relative positions. Pyrati hummed, amused or bemused at the interaction he was witnessing. “Dave, you look like a ghost-ridden wreck. I’m tempted to call Agneta to do an exorcism.” He poured cups of tea, handing them off to Terezi and then Dave before pouring a cup for himself.

“I’m fine now, boss,” Dave said, though his voice was a little unsteady.

Terezi sipped her tea, and leaned forward to grab a sandwich, which she passed back to Dave. He hesitated for a moment, before taking the sandwich from her. “In this case, I think Dave is haunted by the living.” Dave twitched a little at that. Terezi pretended not to notice and snagged a sandwich for herself, and nibbled on it.

“Boss,” Pyrati said in a careful tone. “I know you said you were going to wait until you could tell the whole team but--“He fell silent for a moment before continuing. “Is this political, or personal, this thing with you and Ampora?”

“It can be both,” Terezi said. “You already know what my political affiliation is, Pyrati--you know what it would almost have to be.” The members of her team were mostly low caste trolls who most likely wouldn’t have been able to enter the legislacerator field if she hadn’t sponsored them. 

Pyrati shifted, his demeanor shifting from concern to wary speculation. “Progressive, you’re with the Heiress’ Progressive Movement. As something more than just a supporter.”

“I’ll give whatever details I can when I tell the rest of the team,” Terezi said. “I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”

After finishing her cup of tea and another sandwich, she returned to her hive, where she supervised the cleanup. Once the cleaning crew had been tipped and sent on their way, she unloaded the groceries and other purchases from Dave’s sylladex. Then she went up to her room and logged onto her computer. She signed into her message boards, which were just now providing her with information about Serket. It seemed that her kismesis was following some kind of lead, and might have been responsible for the death of one of the Heiress’ more powerful opponents. (The interesting part was that this particular opponent was Ampora’s sponsor. That set all kinds of gears turning.) There was also a message from Serket, confirmed by one of her contacts as legitimate. She was relieved and frustrated at once by the message: _Pursuing a lead, sending you a gift. What you do with it, is your decision._

For a moment, she didn’t have the slightest idea of what Serket might be talking about. Then she did, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. Serket had _sent_ Ampora to her. “But he was trying to give me information, or wanted me to do something about you. What the fuck are you doing, woman? What are you doing, and what am I supposed to be deciding?”  If Serket was successful, when she came back, they were going to have to have a long talk about this kind of shit.

She checked her e-mail, and then her phone messages. The hospice called, telling her that Lord Ampora was willing to speak to her. Terezi took a quick shower, took a stimulant, and put on one of her best suits. Then she called for a transport and went up to the hospice. After making arrangements for the driver to return in an hour, she went into the building and spoke to the receptionist. After a wait, Terezi was checked for weapons and then escorted to Ampora’s room.

Eridan was watching a rom-com when she was let into his private room. (The attendant who escorted her to the room immediately left.) Eridan turned the movie off as she entered. “’Hello again, Lord Ampora, Thank you for agreeing to speak to me’” Terezi said before he could speak. She said it as if she were quoting from _A Guide to Polite Communication for Wigglers_. “That your highness, is how you greet someone after you have arranged an appointment with them. Would you mind explaining what the _fuck_ you were doing in my hive?”

Oddly enough, he smelled embarrassed. “You didn’t leave me a lot of choice,” Ampora muttered.

“You didn’t leave me any choice,” Terezi said. “What do you want with my kismesis, Ampora? And what makes you think you have the right to invade my hive?”

“Not as if you were gonna see me after having your fucking slave take a shot at me,” Ampora said in a low, angry voice.  

“He wouldn’t have had to if you _hadn’t tried barging past him_ ,” Terezi said. “And he wouldn’t have shot you if you had fucking announced yourself and _surrendered immediately_. But we are not arguing about my slave, Lord Ampora. We are arguing about your decision to invade my home after attempting to force your way past my gods damned office staff!”  

“You kicked me out of the damn office, after I told you it was about Serket,” Ampora said. “If mentioning Serket wasn’t going to get you to talk to me--“ He stopped speaking for a moment. “I thought I’d be able to get the information on my own.”

“What information, Ampora?” Terezi said. “What information did Serket tell you I have?”

Eridan radiated discomfort. “Nothing I can really talk about here. The room’s monitored.”

“If you’re trying to entrap me, you’re doing a shitty job of it,” Terezi said. “It’s known that Serket is a supporter of her Highness the Heir, and serves her directly. It’s known that Serket is my kismesis. Being a supporter of her Highness the Heir and the Progressive Movement are not currently crimes. From you, I know that Serket is missing, but I know precious little else. What information, Ampora?”    




“Fine,” Eridan growled. “Contact information, Neophyte. She implied that you were the one I needed to see if I wanted to talk to the Heir.”

“Lord Ampora, I’m a Neophyte Legislacerator, not Her Highness the Heir’s personal secretary,” Terezi said, pretending she didn’t understand what he meant. There was no way in hell he’d get a private audience with Feferi through official channels--but Terezi wasn’t the only gateway to getting a clandestine audience. Any of them could do it.  She was really, really going to kill Serket for this. _Do you really want me to decide whether or not Ampora is “in” or not, Serket?_ She wasn’t sure she could make the judgment, not after everything that happened. “I’m sure you’re aware there are official channels you can go through that don’t involve breaking into my hive or bursting into my office. Why did you imply you were coming to me about Serket?”  

“Because she told me if she went missing I was to go to you. Fucking lot of good it did,” Eridan said. “You didn’t even react when I told you, what kind of kismesis--“

“I’m a better kismesis than you ever were a moirail, Ampora,” Terezi snapped. She sensed his flinch at that. “If Serket ‘sent’ you to me, it wasn’t for any information I might have. You killed Equius and Gamzee and sold my matesprit’s moirail to get off world sweeps early. Draw your own conclusions on why she’d send you my way.” She leaned in toward him, and felt him try to pull back away from her. “Did she tell you I didn’t have any hard feelings toward you?” She asked in a low voice.   “If she did, she lied to you, Lord Ampora. I hate you in a completely platonic matter.”




“So then getting the contact information on my own was the only thing I could do,” Eridan said, bitterly miserable.

“No, staying the fuck out of my hive was the only thing you could do,” Terezi said. “I do not have whatever information you think you’re looking for, Ampora. But if you want to find anything out at all, I suggest that you plead guilty to the charges I’m dropping on your flat head.”

“Fine, I’ll plead guilty,” Eridan said, which surprised her. “Now get the hell out.”

Terezi bowed very correctly. “Thank you for seeing me, Lord Ampora.” She turned on her heel and started for the door.

“Pyrope--“ Eridan said before she reached the door.

Terezi paused, but didn’t turn around. “Lord Ampora?” She asked.

“I didn’t sell him,” Eridan said. “I was going to keep him. Keep Sol. It was my sponsor--” he trailed off.

“That doesn’t actually help, Lord Ampora,” Terezi said, and walked out the door.

When she finally got back home, she was exhausted. She was a little surprised to find Dave and Pyrati waiting for her at the front door of her hive. She paid the driver and got out of the transport. “He talked me into taking him home, but it turned out that he didn’t have his keycard for the door on him,” Pyrati said.

She could smell Dave’s embarrassment, and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. “I see. Thanks for waiting with him,” she said.

“Don’t mention it,” Pyrati said. He headed to his transport, and drove away.

Terezi unlocked the door, and disarmed the wire. Dave followed her into the hive silently. She could sense that he was uncertain now, and wary. “You’ll be relieved to know that Ampora doesn’t seem to be interested in killing you,” She said, and took off her suit coat, dropping it on the couch. She sat down with a sigh.

“Yes mistress,” Dave said. “I guess I didn’t have anything to worry about.” His tone was gray, with a hint of bitter orange.

“Come here, Dave,” she said. She heard him step closer. To her amusement, he knelt at her feet. “I was worried,” she said. Admitted. “He might have been a little distracted; I was not feeling very diplomatic when I spoke to him. I don’t think he’ll demand that you be culled however. He might order me to discipline you, or demand to do it himself. If he does, I think I will be very disinclined to help him, even if he is going to plead guilty to house invasion.”

Dave was quiet for a while. “What am I supposed to say, when you say something like that?” he asked lowly. “And earlier, you rocked me to sleep like I was a baby or something. And they just stood there, watching you do it”

“The gendarmedecimator-inspectors?” Terezi asked.

Dave nodded slightly. “And before that...” He trailed off and Terezi could hear him rubbing his hand on his slacks. _“If you were just wanting to get off I’d understand it,”_ Dave said in his own language. _“But I don’t know what the fuck you want with this cuddling bullshit.”_

“Dave--“

“Not fucking translating,” Dave said with a flash of anger.

“No one’s ever shown you pale feelings before, have they?” Terezi asked, and Dave flinched.

“Humans don’t have ‘pale’ feelings, mistress,” Dave said, his voice rough with emotion. “We don’t pity the people we _love_. And the only people I really _loved_ are both dead. And you don’t have _friends_ , the closest word you have for _friend_ actually translates to something like ‘person who is too interesting to kill or become seriously angry with.’”

She could smell salt and water, and knew that he was trying not to cry. She reached out to touch his face, which he turned away from her, a sharp and almost angry gesture. “You’re definitely that to me, Dave. I know humans don’t have quadrants, and that you don’t have a concept of kismesis. Your hate is purely platonic.” She took a breath, and was a little surprised by how shaky it was. “So what are you feeling right now?” She didn’t know what she’d do if Dave said that he hated her. She didn’t know what she’d say if he said he didn’t hate her.

“Fuck if I know,” Dave said, all in one breath.

Terezi laughed. She reached down and tugged Dave up to sit beside her.  “You’re just as confusing to me, Dave,” she said. They sat like that in silence for a while until Terezi began to fall asleep, and Dave nearly carried her upstairs to her respite block.


	10. In which Dave is privy to a number of conversations, and receives a proposal

After he helped her up the stairs to her respite block, Pyrope sent him back down to lock up. When he had returned, he’d headed for the door to his own block, but Pyrope called him into hers. She had already slipped into her recuperacoon so he was spared the sight of her junk all out in the breeze. (Again.)  She had put a pile together like the day before, and she was smiling at him with all of her teeth. “I’d like you to stay in here again, Dave,” she said. “My door has a lock.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that except “yes, mistress.” Any other question (such as, “why are you so damned worried for my safety when you gave me weapons to protect you?”) might lead to a “feelings jam,” and he didn’t think he was ready for another one. Dave locked the door and armed the wire, then turned off the light and settled into the pile. She had left her sword cane near the pile, close enough to grab. A half remembered joke about how the guy was always the one who had to go and investigate noises in the night rose from the back of his mind, but he didn’t try to make it. It wouldn’t translate well.  

Since he had been sleeping for hours already, Dave didn’t actually sleep at first. His head buzzed like a beehouse mainframe. He remembered Pyrope leaning against him, and the way her hand had felt combing through his hair. Most of all, he remembered the little hitch in her breath when she asked him what he was feeling. There were no words he could think of that would have described the look on her face when she asked him what he was feeling. She was too sharp and too hard to have an expression so close to vulnerable.

_No one’s ever shown you pale feelings before, have they?_ Pyrope’s words circled in his head. The words had ripped off a scab of memories. He thought of his first few jobs, feeling overwhelmed and trying not to show it, finding that fine balance between telling the truth and telling someone what they wanted to hear. He remembered being disciplined for “his own good,” or because his owner at the time needed a scapegoat. He remembered overtures and solicitations, but mostly he remembered being alone, because he couldn’t trust the motivation behind the gesture, and he didn’t want to risk guessing wrong. (He never wanted to risk getting it wrong again.)   

When he finally slid into sleep, his dreams were haunted, full of uneasy memories, the events of the past few days, and his conversation with Pyrope. At one point, he was on the roof of the apartment building where he’d grown up, watching the sun set. It was almost a memory, but Pyrope was there too, wearing a T-shirt, Bro’s baseball cap and a pair of jeans. They were talking about quadrants and Bro was ironically pretending the collar around Dave’s neck was an engagement ring, and for some reason, Pyrope was playing along.

Dave woke up, still arguing with his Bro about wedding arrangements. “Fuck you, Dirk. I am not going to be the one wearing a goddamn dress, if I were going to be married which I’m not!” He shouted. To his intense embarrassment, Pyrope peered over the edge of her recuperacoon at him.  

“Dave, please talk in your sleep more quietly,” Pyrope said. Her tone was slightly teasing, slightly cranky. “It’s still an hour until we have to get up.” Dave muttered an apology, his face burning. Pyrope settled back into her recuperacoon. Dave fervently prayed that she was sleepy enough that she would not pursue what he’d said. The gods were either not listening, or totally were and thought this shit was funny, because Pyrope asked a few minutes later, “who is Dirk?”

“My custodian when I was a child,” Dave said.

“Hm,” Pyrope said. “What is ‘married’ and why is it important that you not be wearing a dress for it?”

Dave attempted to explain, and just barely managed to avoid revealing the exact context of the dream. “It was just a really weird dream mistress, sorry for disturbing you,” he said.

“Shoosh.” There were words at the end of that, but Dave couldn’t make them out. Eventually, he fell back to sleep as well.  

When Pyrope woke up again, she sent Dave downstairs to make breakfast and tea. He made egg toast with mushrooms, and fried strips of meat with a high fat content. He was just setting out her plate when she came downstairs. “Am I going in to work today, mistress?” Dave asked. “Or should I work from home?”

“Into the office. Ampora has made his move, and I don’t think he has anything left,” Pyrope said, and sat down. “Before we go to the office, we have to go speak to my mentor.”

“’We’ mistress?” Dave asked hesitantly.

Pyrope gave him an unreadable look. Amused, but there was an odd twist in her smile. “’We.’ Mediates wants me to report. You’re coming with, because I don’t want to leave you by yourself.” She started to eat her breakfast.

There was an odd note in the way she said that. A very slight unsteadiness that he could hear, but didn’t know how to read. “Yes, mistress,” he said. He wondered if it was because she was uneasy about speaking to Mediates. He made a plate for himself and a mug, and sat at the table. (He waited until she acknowledged him with a slight nod before eating, however.) “Does the Judicial Drone disapprove of your political leanings, mistress?”

“I don’t think he approves or disapproves,” Pyrope said. “He is aware of them, however. He will be more concerned about the situation with Ampora.”  

Dave poked at his toast with his fork. “Mistress,” he said, not looking up. “What _is_ the situation with Lord Ampora?” Dave asked.

“Complicated,” Pyrope said. “He claims to be in cahoots with my kismesis, among other things. I am not sure what he thinks he’s up to. I’m fairly certain he’s acting alone, and may even be in some danger.”

After breakfast, they took a rented transport to Mediates hive. Pyrope headed straight for Mediates hivesuite. Though he had seen the Judicial Drone on several occasions after that first extremely memorable time, it didn’t get any easier. The Judicial Drone was a least ten feet tall with a wide, deep chest, heavy, oddly jointed limbs and multiple pairs of horns. Mediates could walk upright, but generally seemed to prefer a quadrupedal stance. His mouth was wide and his fangs were huge. He looked even more alien than Pyrope did and moved in a way that reminded him of something he’d seen in a monster movie when he was a kid.

After greetings had been exchanged, Dave knelt by Pyrope, who was seated on a cushion near the couch-pit. Mediates and Pyrope launched into a fast paced conversation littered with legal jargon. Mediates questioned Pyrope harshly about the events that led up to the shooting, and the conversation Terezi had with Ampora after the fact. Then Mediates turned his attention to Dave, questioning him closely about what he remembered. By the end of the interrogation, Dave felt as if he had been flayed by Mediates interrogation, his skin hanging off of him in (thankfully metaphorical) shreds.

**“i feel that this case can be settled out of court,”** Mediates said. **“i will handle the case, and have the request sent to lord ampora’s hospice.”**

“Thank you, sir,” Pyrope said. She rose to her feet and bowed.

**“neophyte, in light of this situation, what are you planning on doing when your affiliations are revealed?”** Mediates asked.

“To continue as I have sir,” Pyrope said, her voice becoming determined. “To be the body of the law.”

**“ampora may still be a danger to you, professionally.”**

Pyrope’s head tilted with unconscious defensiveness, horns pointing forward. “Even so, sir.”

**“i ask, because an interesting request has been presented to the cruelest bar,”** Mediates said. **“and we are of a mind to grant it.”**

“What sort of request sir, and what does it have to do with me?” Pyrope asked.

**“the heiress has requested the services of a legal team. she made no mention of preferences but i feel that your skills are matched to her needs.”** There was some kind of secret amusement in the drone’s voice.

Pyrope twitched a little, as if she’d been caught at something. “I’ll have to confer with my team, sir. I don’t know anything about their political affiliations.”

**“you will do that, neophyte and return with an answer,”** Mediates rumbled.

Pyrope shivered a little. “Yes sir.” She took a breath. “I’ll take my leave now, sir, I know you’re busy.”

After they left the hivesuite, Dave could see that Pyrope’s hands were shaking. Her voice was steady as she called for another transport, and after a few minutes, the trembling faded. She was completely in control by the time the transport arrived. Dave found himself wanting to ask if Pyrope was all right, but didn’t. The ride to the office was quiet.

When they got to the office, Dave went to the front desk and started to catch up with work. He got about three hours of work in when Terezi called him from the client meeting block. Dave closed the file he was working on and put the computer on standby, then headed to the meeting block. The rest of the team looked various stages of worried, thoughtful and unhappy. “Dave, you need to be here for this part,” Pyrope said, and pointed him to an empty chair. Dave sat down, glancing around the room, and wondering if there was going to be trouble.

“I’ve told you the first part,” Pyrope said quietly. “I have told you as much about the situation with Ampora as I am empowered to explain. I have told you that the suspicions I’ve known you’ve been harboring about my affiliations are true. I’m a supporter of the Heiress and the Progressive Movement. I’m also an active member. If you’re not comfortable with this, you can leave the firm.” She glanced over at Coiver for some reason, and the investigator flushed teal.

“Neophyte, please disregard my earlier statements,” he trailed off. “I consider you a friend,” he said, using the word that meant something like ‘I respect you, and need to keep an eye on you because sometimes, you’re stupid.’

“You accused her of lying to you and misrepresenting herself, Coiver,” Agneta muttered. 

Pyrope clicked at them both. “You can black-flirt later,” she said, and seemed to ignore their sputtering denials. “Coiver, I consider you a friend and one of the best investigators I worked with during training, that’s why I asked you to join the firm. I don’t want to lose any of you, but as I’ve said, if you don’t feel you can work with me, you can leave now.” She waited, but it didn’t seem like any of the trolls were about to abscond.

“The second part is that the team has been offered a position as the Heiress’ personal legal team,” Pyrope said. “Once again, if you don’t think--“ She was interrupted by comments of the “holy shit are you serious?” variety. “Mediates told me when I went to tell him what was going on,” she said, raising her voice over her team’s. “I know what I want to do, but I’m willing to listen to what you all want to do.”

The overall consensus seemed to be “take the job.”

During this time, Pyrope seemed intent on keeping him close to her as possible. She was always around, and insisted he accompany her on errands. When she wasn’t able to take him somewhere, she usually had Pyrati or Agneta watching him. It was starting to become uncomfortable. After several days of this treatment, Dave finally got up the nerve to ask her what was going on.

He waited until after they’d been home for a while. He left the door open in his room, and worked on his music on the computer. After a while, she appeared in the doorway, and sat down on his bed, listening. “Is this the one you were having trouble with? It sounds good now,” she said after a while.

“Thank you, mistress. I guess leaving it alone for a while did the trick,” he said, and fiddled with the program, adjusting the tempo slightly. “I’m kind of wondering why I haven’t been, the past couple days. Alone I mean.” He tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible, and he kept his back turned.

Pyrope went frozen-quiet behind him, and it made his bloodpusher stutter hard against his chest, thinking he’d said something he shouldn’t have. The frozen quiet feeling lasted for about a minute, and then Pyrope made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and laugh. “Oh,” she said, and he had to turn because her voice sounded thick and strange. She was a little pale under the gray of her skin, and a few tears were making tracks down her face. “I didn’t even realize,” she said, and laugh-sobbed again.

“Mistress?” Dave asked. He had never seen her cry before, and he didn’t want to now. “What’s wrong?” He got up and approached her, an obscure desire to comfort her rising in his chest. He sat down beside her, and she immediately took one of his hands.

“A few days ago, you thought I was going to kill you,” she said after a few moments. “You _expected_ me to. And I wasn’t really thinking of it consciously, but I was trying to keep an eye on you in case you decided to...try and make things easy for me.”

It took him a few minutes to realize what she was implying. “You thought I might try to kill myself?” _A suicide watch, seriously? Seriously?_ Okay, there were a few moments where he had been a little out of his head, and where he was honestly considering it but--no, there was no but. He had somehow managed to freak out a troll to the point she was convinced he was some kind of suicidal broken wreck. (A suicidal wreck she apparently wanted to salvage for some reason.) “I...mistress, I’m sorry that I worried you.”    

Pyrope squeezed his hand, gently. “It wasn’t all you, Dave.” She took a breath. “You just reminded me of someone. He was a mutant, a mutant with bright red blood and his eyes were starting to change color.”

Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly feel more like an idiot, it just got worse. “And he killed himself before anyone could find out,” Dave guessed.

Pyrope laughed again, and leaned against him. “He tried, but we were able to stop him. Feferi was so angry, I thought she was going to kill him. She managed to talk him down though, and kept a continual suicide watch on him until she could make him promise not to do something like that again.”        




“And that worked?”

She nodded. “They’re really close.” She hugged him then, pushing her face against his chest, and not seeming to care about her glasses, or the way they poked him. “I didn’t even realize until now,” she said again, her voice slightly muffled. “Dave, you immense fuckass.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again, then winced when she punched him, a little sock to his arm that didn’t really hurt.

“Shut up,” she said, and pushed him back onto the bed. Dave went, startled but not fighting, blood pusher pounding in his ears as she covered him. Her lips fleered back and her eyes widened behind her now crooked shades as she took in his scent. She moved back, straddling him with her hands on either side of his head, her knees caging his thighs. “No Dave, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you, or do anything you don’t want--I just--“she trailed off.

Dave shivered, his mouth suddenly dry. “Mistress, you can--”do whatever you want.

“No I damn well can’t,” Pyrope said. She moved off him, sitting on the end of the bed with her back to him. “I want you not to be afraid of me, can you do that?”

“You startled me, mistress.” Because fuck if he was going to apologize for that. 

“I wanted to kiss you, and see if I could make the tension in your shoulders go away,” she said. “I wanted to see how long I could tickle your hand until you made me stop. I want you to kiss me, and I want you to fall asleep in my arms. I want you to trust me, and I want to know that I trust you. I want to know everything you won’t tell me, and for you make me spill all my secrets. I want to make you translate everything you say in your language, and I want to learn it. I am ridiculously pale for you, Dave Strider.” She turned to him, kneeling on the bed. “You can sleep in your own block today, Dave, but my door is going to be unlocked.” She gave him a smile that was almost shy, stood up, and headed to her own block.

Dave, a little breathless and his head spinning, watched her leave. _“Holy shit,”_ he breathed in English. 

 

 


	11. In which there is an uncomfortable evening after conversation, and the Neophyte takes Ampora into custody

Dave did not come to her that day, but then, she hadn’t really expected him to. She listened carefully for restlessness from Dave’s respite block for almost an hour before finally falling asleep. The sopor could not block out all of her worries, so she was the one with a restless night, not Dave. The dreams that slid beneath were a confusing mix of old war films, the events of the past few nights, and fragments of old term papers.

She awoke that evening to the smell of Dave cooking breakfast, and the sound of the evening news. She slid out of her recuperacoon and scraped off the slime. After a trip to the ablution block to get cleaned up, and getting dressed, she headed downstairs. When she went into the food preparation block, he looked up from setting the table, an unreadable expression on his face. “Evening, boss,” he said in his politely neutral tone.

He had never called her “boss” before. It had always been “mistress.” He only used ‘boss,’ with the members of her team, so this was a very significant thing. (In a way, it felt as if she had won something.) It also wasn’t something she wanted to jump on, just yet, however much she wanted to.  “Evening, Dave,” Terezi said, and sat down at the table. He poured her a cup of tea, and served her breakfast. He had made grubcakes, fried strips of meat, and a plate of biscuits. “Have you eaten yet?” She asked. When he responded in the negative she said, “Make yourself a plate and sit with me.” 

She heard him moving around the kitchen, and then sitting down across from her. “Is this a feelings jam?” He asked, a little warily, but also, with a tiny bit of humor. Then, in a sideways sort of way, referring to what she had said the day before, “I’m not sure I have any secrets left that you haven’t already pried out of me, mistress.”

 “I doubt that’s true,” Terezi said. “Though there are more things that you haven’t pried out of me.”  She took a bite of her grubcake, and a sip of her tea.

“I wonder why that is,” Dave said in a slightly edged tone. He took a few bites of his own breakfast. Terezi had the feeling he was trying to give himself some time to think. “Tell me about the guy I reminded you of,” Dave said finally. He glanced sidelong at her, and sipped his tea.

“His name is Karkat Vantas,” Terezi said. “He’s the Heiress’ Chief of Security, the commander of her personal body guard and whatever other title she can throw at him that sticks.” He was also a semi-religious figure, but that was something Karkat would not forgive her for mentioning. “His eyes are the same color as yours.”

There was a pause of about a minute before Dave asked the next question. “Were you and he in a relationship?” He asked the question a little hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure about asking such a personal question. He smelled a little embarrassed about the question, but he didn’t qualify or take the question back.

“I think I could have been. It would be hard to say what quadrant though!” Terezi said. “Karkat is, heh, basically pale for everyone. When we were kids, he’d try to hide it under a layer of anger and fakey licorice hate, but the pale would just float to the surface no matter what he said.” She had pitied Karkat for his self-directed loathing, and the concern for others that he hid so badly, and sometimes, hated him a little too, for the same reasons. She had hated seeing Karkat hurt himself, over and over. She had been so happy, that Feferi had been able to help him in ways that she hadn’t been.   




“I’m not much like that, boss,” Dave said, an accent flavoring his usually precise Alternian.

Boss again. She wanted to ask him what it meant, when he used the less formal title. What the accent indicated, because he suddenly smelled deliciously embarrassed. “It was the eyes, and the expression on your face. And it wasn’t a conscious thing.”    




“I was wondering if what happened yesterday was because of whatever relationship you have with Vantas,” Dave said. Terezi could hear him idly poking his breakfast with an eating utensil.

She could hear the hesitation, the unease in his voice and an odd sort of determination. She could taste acid at the back of her throat. _Mistress, you can do whatever you want._ “No, that wasn’t because I mistook my feelings for you for what I feel about Karkat.”

Dave went very still for a moment. “Yesterday you said you felt ‘pale’ for me, after you pushed me onto my back, which confused me. No one has ever said that their feelings were ‘pale’ when doing that to me. What does ‘pale’ feel like, mistress?” His voice was very calm, his language polite inferior to superior. There was also a sense he was preparing for a blow.  

Dave was the very last person she wanted to hit. The very worst part about the comparison was that she knew that she should have known better. Should have understood instantly how he-- _how a slave, most especially a slave with his history, you idiot_ \--would interpret being pounced on by his mistress. “At the moment,” she said, her voice sounding strained and weak to her ears. “It feels as if I’m balanced on a wire over an abyss.”   

He ruined the feeling, maybe on purpose by asking, “Really?” His tone faintly surprised.

“A moirail is the one who stands between you and the world, and between the world and you. A moirail questions you and brings the world into focus.” She swallowed hard. “Physical contact and intimacy is common.”  She paused before adding, “I know I shouldn’t have done that, yesterday.”

“Mistress, you can do whatever you want to me,” Dave said. She couldn’t tell from his tone if he was stating a fact or making an offer.

“You can do the same,” Terezi said immediately. He had not expected her to say something like that. He was surprised, but at the same time, she could sense that he didn’t believe her. It was frustrating! The barrier was still there. The barrier would still be there no matter what she did to it.  She took a breath. “You’re getting better at feeling jams Dave.”

“Is that what we’re doing boss.” He didn’t state it as a question.

“Not all feelings are nice ones, Dave.” The words came out a little shaky. Dave snorted a laugh.

“Boss,” Dave said, and then, “Pyrope,” then more softly, “Terezi?”

“Use whatever designation you want,” she said.

 “Mistress, I don’t pity you,” he said suddenly. “I _like_ you.”

“’Laik’ means what, Dave?” She felt a little disappointed that he’d gone back to ‘mistress.’

“I tolerate you exceedingly well in a non-rivalrous admiratory fashion.”

She could hear his smile as he completely butchered the Alternian language. She laughed. “Those are not words that ever existed, Dave.”  

Later, Terezi went over the travel itinerary and the backup itinerary with her team. Terezi did not at first think they needed a backup itinerary, but Karkat had insisted and backed it up with word passed down from Feferi. The arguments had been very convincing, and caused Terezi to suspect that the Heiress was very close to making her Challenge for the throne. She checked up on the situation with the still-missing Serket (no one had heard anything and there were no messages in the usual drops) and then contacted her matesprit.  

It was Aradia’s auspistice who answered the com-call. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Terezi said with a slight grin.

“Not really. I’ll let Aradia fill you in on what’s going on,” Sarius said and went to get Aradia before she could ask, “fill me in on what?”

“Terezi, you should have called sooner,” Aradia said when she reached the com. “An e-mail message stating ’Eri-fucking-dan Ampora broke into my goddamn hive like he thinks he’s Flarping’ doesn’t count as ‘debriefing.’ I shouldn’t have to ask Karkat for details when I’m on the same planet as you.”

Terezi winced. “I’m sorry, it’s been hectic.”

“For us, too. I would have called you but we’re a little busy packing.” Her tone was excited, and invited questions.

“Packing?” Had Feferi sent for Aradia? _Was_ Feferi getting ready to Challenge?

“We’ve been called in,” Aradia said, confirming at least some of Terezi’s suspicions. “We’ll be taking a slight detour, so you’ll meet with _The Steadfast_ before us, though we’re leaving around the same time.”

Terezi didn’t ask about the detour. It might be a side trip to see old pottery shards somewhere or it might be an actual mission from the Heiress. Since Aradia wasn’t talking about pot shards, it was safe to assume it was the latter. “Will you have time to visit, before you go?” she asked instead. “I’d understand if you don’t want to--Ampora will be there.”

“I’d be willing to put up with Ampora, in order to see you before I leave,” Aradia said.

They talked some more, Terezi filling Aradia in on things that she hadn’t included in her communications and reports. She talked about Dave as well, laying all her feelings about him on the table, along with the events of the past few days. “I don’t think I’ve felt this protective of anyone before,” she said. “But I keep doing it wrong. It’s not just because we’re both alien to each other, it’s me being a stupid goddamn high blood.”

“At least you’re aware when you’re being stupid,” Aradia said in a not very sympathetic tone. “Sometimes I think Narses needs a nail-studded club before he becomes aware that he’s being stupid.” Beat. “That’s why we have Sarius.”

Terezi laughed. “It’s not much help when I realize what I did after the fact,” she said.

“Dave told you more gently than I would have,” Aradia said.

“I know,” Terezi said. Aradia could be fucking terrifying when she wanted to be, especially when it came to instructing others in Progressive theory. “I definitely deserved something stricter, but I’m glad he said something.”

“So am I,” Aradia said. “You seem completely smitten, and Dave choosing to tell you that something you did upset him is a good sign that he may reciprocate.”

“I think he might, he’s at least admitted to fondness,” Terezi said.

“I think I definitely want to meet him,” Aradia said. “I’ll try to make the time.”

“I hope you can,” Terezi said. “I don’t get to see you often enough.”

“I promise you’ll be seeing more of me in the future,” Aradia said. They talked for a few more minutes, mostly quadrant gossip before Terezi finally ended the call.

A few hours after the call, she received a summons from Mediates to report for Ampora’s sentencing.

“We’re going to be taking Lord Ampora into custody,” she told Dave on their way to the court block. “That basically means we have an unwelcome guest until we leave, and then he’ll be our cabin mate until we get to the station where we’ll transfer to the Heiress’ flagship.”

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said, sounding a little uneasy.

“If he does or says anything out of line, tell me immediately. He is not in a situation where he can tell me what to do, nor does he have any authority over you, okay?”

“Understood,” Dave said.

“Good!” She let her hand rest briefly on his arm, and then continued up the steps of the court hive.

The sentencing procedure was very brief. Mediates pronounced the sentence, Eridan stated he would comply and cooperate with the terms of the settlement. The paperwork took longer than the sentencing itself. Then Terezi took possession of Eridan’s sylladex and strife deck. Aside from his statement, Eridan didn’t talk much on the way back to the hive. He smelled tired and unhappy, and possibly a little irritable because he’d been put in the back seat of the rented transport with Dave. Dave on the other hand was outwardly calm, though she could catch the occasional whiff of uneasiness from him.

“Where am I sleeping?” Eridan asked once they returned to the hive.

“We’ll set up a guest recuperacoon in the meeting block,” Terezi said. “Dave, could you take it out of storage and make sure there are no holes in it?”

“Yes, mistress,” he said and absconded upstairs.

When Dave was out of earshot, she turned to Eridan. “If you’re harboring any resentment toward my slave for shooting you, highness, I advise you to refrain from acting on any impulse to ‘punish’ him.”

Eridan smelled of bright startled anger. “Why the fuck would I punish him? I’m not happy he fucking got the drop on me and I dented my skull on your stairs, but I’m not going to beat a slave for defending his mistress’ property.”  

“The warning stands, your highness,” Terezi said. She might have said more, but she heard Dave dragging the guest recuperacoon down the stairs. She immediately went to help Dave get the recuperacoon into the meeting block. He’d also brought a few cartons of the concentrate. She sent Dave into the food prep block for water and started pouring the contents of the cartons into the recuperacoon. “I should warn you that Aradia might be coming to visit,” she said as she worked. 

“I do have an understanding that she would be angry with me,” Eridan said stiffly.

“Yet you failed to realize that I’d also be angry,” Terezi said. “Sollux was my friend. Nepeta is my friend as well. _She’s_ the one you should be afraid of, by the way. Aradia just hates you. Nepeta wants to feed you your liver.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank Elemental for her tone-beta of this chapter.


	12. In which Dave considers his feelings for Pyrope and the Neophyte’s matesprit pays a visit

Dave absconded once he finished helping Pyrope set up the recuperacoon. He knew he should probably have stayed with her until he had been dismissed, but he had needed to get away. Not away from Ampora, and not really away from her: he just needed to be away, to have some time to think.

He left the door to his room ajar and started working on a mix, the music just soft enough that he’d be able to hear Pyrope if she called for him. After a few minutes, he heard the entertainment center being turned on, and quiet footsteps on the stairs. He could tell it was Pyrope, because she always avoided the creaky spot on the third step from the head of the stairwell. The footsteps stopped at his door, but Pyrope did not enter. “Boss?” He asked when the footsteps didn’t continue on to Pyrope’s respite block.

“I’m going to be on the computer in my room,” Pyrope said. “I’ll order dinner in a few hours. Do you have any preferences?”

“That place on the corner of Barrow, with the hot glazed featherbeast wings,” Dave said. “And also, beer.”

“Okay. You get to keep an eye on Ampora. Check on him in a while to see if he needs anything,” Pyrope said.

“Yes, boss,” Dave said. He heard Pyrope retreat to her respite block. Dave went back to his music, keeping an eye on the clock. He figured he would go check up on the sea troll in thirty minutes or so.

_Mistress, you can do whatever you want to me._

_You can do the same._

Both his statement and her reply had been floating around in his head all night. Accompanied by a memory of the look on Pyrope’s face when he had questioned her about what had happened yesterday. Not indignation, not a denial saying _how dare you take what I did the wrong way_ , just horrified realization followed by an explanation and “I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

That she had actually apologized to him had done strange things to his head. That she said, “You can do the same,” did even stranger things, because there was a whole load of shit he could have said to that, that he hadn’t. He could have pointed out that it was easy for her to say something like that; he would never be able to call her on it. He hadn’t said anything because he hadn’t wanted to grind her nose in it. Not because she might punish him for overstepping his bounds but because he could see that she was sorry. (Not just sorry. For a minute, she had looked _sick_ , as if she wanted to throw up.)

It was something he kept going back to, that look on her face. Kept thinking about her apology and the proposal the day before. Kept thinking about being pinned underneath her and being surprised, but not really afraid of her. She had never demanded that kind of service from him before, that had been part of why he hadn’t been afraid, but it was also because he trusted her. He thought that if she had intended anything sexual with him, it wouldn’t have been as bad as his previous experiences.

He trusted her because even if she pried at him almost constantly, she also paradoxically allowed him his privacy. That was what he realized that day. The knowledge that she didn’t just want his obedience, that she wanted something more from him. She pitied him. She wanted him to be her moirail. (“Weird alien friend-marriage,” he remembered a friend calling it one time.) He did not trust the declaration, but he was willing to test it. He was willing to be a little less careful with her, to take down the barriers on his side, since her own walls were not where he expected them to be anyway. That was what “boss” meant, when he said it to her. And she had said, _“use whatever designation you want.”_  

_Mistress, I don’t pity you. I_ like _you_.

Most of the Alternian words that came closest to “like” were grouped in a quadrant or implied some kind of aesthetic appreciation for something. “Like” in English was almost embarrassingly childish.  The word “like” lived in the territory of notes being passed back and forth in class by kids, with check boxes for yes and no. (In Pyrope’s case, she had sent him a note with the biggest damn tilted parallelogram she could manage across the sheet.) 

It was a childish word, but it was the only word that fit. She treated him fairly; she was funny and terrifyingly honest. She could also be incredibly vicious, and like most other higher blooded trolls had a quick, violent temper. (She had never really taken that temper out on him or on any member of her team, so she had a lot more control than most of the other trolls Dave had worked for.) And it wasn’t just her, that he liked. Her entire team, even that Coiver guy had the same weirdly friendly demeanor most of the time, and the aura of friendly seemed to stretch out to anyone Terezi had contact with. It was a little spooky, and it had made him wonder if Pyrope had some kind of psychic mojo going on for a while.

_Either that or there’s actually something to this “Progressive Movement” thing_. He thought he remembered some of the gendarmedecimators wearing discreet little Movement pins. (It wasn’t something he had really been paying attention to at the time.) The gendarme-inspectors who had initially interrogated him had worked with Pyrope before. (They also knew of him from the embezzlement case at Petris Meridian that he had blown the whistle on. Why they had gone to the trouble of pulling his file, he wasn’t too clear on.) It might have been more that they respected Pyrope, and were inclined to be careful with one of her assets.  

When about half an hour had passed, Dave headed downstairs to check on Ampora. He was a little nervous about “checking up on” Ampora. Even if Pyrope said Ampora didn’t have any authority over him, or more importantly, her, Dave was pretty sure that he was the last person Ampora would want to see.  

The sea troll was watching some historical drama on the entertainment center. Dave hovered for a couple beats, moving into the troll’s peripheral vision and bowing before speaking. “Do you require anything, your highness? Mistress Pyrope will be ordering dinner soon, but I could prepare something for you.”

The sea troll did not direct his attention away from the movie he was watching. “Soda will be fine,” he said shortly. 

_So far, so good_ , Dave thought. Ampora was doing the “ignore the help” thing. That didn’t mean he might not decide to do something later though. Dave bowed again and went to get the soda.

“How long have you been serving Pyrope?” Ampora asked when Dave returned.

Dave opened the can of soda for Ampora and handed it to him. “Less than a sweep, your highness,” Dave said, carefully not meeting the sea troll’s gaze. “Is there anything else you require, Lord Ampora?”

“Is she a good mistress?” Ampora asked.

Like that answer was ever going to be _no_. “Serving the Neophyte is an honor,” Dave said.

The sea troll _glubbed_ and unpaused his movie. “Get out.”

Dave bowed and retreated as quickly as was polite. He headed back upstairs and found that Pyrope was standing at the head of the stairs, waiting for him. She was holding the strategy game. “Red or black? We’ll play in the food preparation block.”




The night was almost a normal one, despite Ampora lurking presence in the meeting block. They played two games. He won the second time, but he suspected that Pyrope let him win. She ordered dinner and then talked to him about her matesprit and her quadrants. “She’s in an auspistice with two professtorians,” Pyrope said. “Narses took her in as a general assistant when everyone separated from the Heiress--mostly so he could steal her work! Which I guess is a compliment--Sarius Flavus makes sure everything is properly attributed and no one dies.”

“Will they be visiting as well?” Dave asked.

“No, but you’ll be meeting them eventually,” Pyrope said. “Sarius is in the Movement, but Narses isn’t, though he does support the Heiress.” Dave asked questions for a while and then answered the door when the food arrived. He paid the delivery guy, and Terezi split up the order. When she did, she made a special point of apologizing for the “low quality of the fare,” and then excused herself. She handed her order off to Dave and followed him back into the food preparation block to eat. 

It was pretty clear to Dave that she was doing this on purpose, leaving Ampora by himself like that. Technically, she was supposed to be in the meeting block playing host to Ampora. Instead, she was playing by the rules where she needed to be invited by the sea dweller to join him. (Which he hadn’t done.) She was being very correct while at the same time, being kind of rude, just to get on Ampora’s nerves. That she was playing this kind of game bothered him a little, but not enough to question the situation. After dinner, Pyrope sent him upstairs, and went into the meeting block. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Pyrope say, “Ampora, why don’t you explain how you ended up in cahoots with Vriska--” He was extremely tempted to listen in, but went to his room instead.

He spent some time making sure he had everything he needed immediately packed into his sylladex. Everything else was going into ship storage. Among the things he left out were some music grubs he wanted to give Agneta and Pyrati. It was a little funny. He had had casual acquaintances with trolls before, slaves and even a few free low bloods, people he’d met on gigs, but he’d never gone to the trouble of mixing anything specifically for an acquaintance to listen to, and here he was making mixes for his owner’s team. The last _friend_ he had made a mix for...John probably never got the chance to listen to it.

After shutting down his computer he settled down to read before getting some sleep. The conversation downstairs got loud a couple times, but not enough that he could make out what Ampora or Pyrope were saying. Eventually the noise died down and Dave could hear Pyrope coming up the stairs, heading for her room. He heard the door to her room close, and he remembered what she’d said the day before.

_“You can sleep in your own block today, Dave, but my door is going to be unlocked.”_

Dave thought about it for a while and then set his book down. Feeling weirdly self-conscious, he stepped out of his block and into the hall. Pyrope’s door was closed. Taking a deep breath and feeling like an idiot because of his uneasiness, he crossed the short distance between his block and hers, and knocked on the door. “Mistress?” His voice did not just waver there. “May I enter?”

“Come in, Dave,” Pyrope said. It sounded like she was smiling. He opened the door and saw that Pyrope was sitting on a pile next to her recuperacoon. She had an antique looking book open on her lap. It was leather bound and had slightly yellowed pages that might or might not have been for effect. “I was just doing a little reading before going to sleep.” She tilted the book up and he saw a blue Scorpio sign pressed into the tooled leather. “It’s the diary of my kismesis’ Ancestor,” she said. “One of them, anyway. She lived a long time for a gambligant, so there’s at least three volumes of her being horrifying, bitter and larcenous. Sit down and I’ll read it to you.”

Dave settled down beside her and listened to her read about Troll Blackbeard until he fell asleep.

Aradia arrived in the early mid-evening of the next night. She was taller than Pyrope, though most of that height could be attributed to her impressively coiled horns. She was dressed in a dark green and red with her long hair was held up by teal lacquered dagger-pins. She was pretty and she had the friendliest smile he had ever seen on a troll, a smile that went right up to her dark red eyes. “You must be Dave,” she said as she walked past him into the hive. “I’m Aradia, Terezi’s matesprit.” She barely spared Ampora, who was sitting in the meeting block a glance.

“Yes mistress,” Dave said. “I’ll tell Mistress Pyrope you’re--“

“ARADIA!” Pyrope shouted. She thundered down the stairs, slammed the stairwell door open and practically launched herself at Megido. Dave had to dodge out of the way, or be trampled.

“Terezi! Are you five?” Aradia laughed as she was reeled around the entrance to the meeting block by Pyrope. “My hair!”

“I’ll do it back up,” Pyrope said. Dave thought that if she smiled any harder, her face would split. “You’re wearing the daggers I gave you!”

“Of course I am!”

“God, get a block,” Ampora grumbled.

The matesprits didn’t seem to care too much about decorum or Ampora’s delicate sensibilities, though they did stop dancing around the room. Dave felt as if he should abscond, but it looked as if they were going to take it upstairs to the quadrant block. They both headed up stairs, leaving Dave to awkwardly sit in the kitchen. After about an hour, Pyrope shouted for him to make them some snacks and bring up some soda. This at least gave Dave something to do. He popped grubcorn, heated up some frozen stuffed clams, and took that and a six pack of soda upstairs.

When he got to the head of the stairs, he found them in Pyrope’s room instead of the quadrant block. They were sitting on the pile and Megido was apparently showing Pyrope pictures. Dave set the tray and the six pack down and started to leave, but Pyrope said, “come sit with us,” so he stayed and looked at pictures and home videos of Megido’s auspistices and archaeological digs. She also showed pictures of herself, Pyrope, Serket and a brown blood kid with a longhorn rack named Tavros Nitram. It was weirdly comfortable, hearing Megido and Pyrope talk about their childhood.

“Terezi,” Megido said about an hour later. “Do you mind if I could talk to Dave, alone?”

“That’s up to Dave,” Pyrope said, glancing over at him. “Dave, Aradia wants to completely propagandize your pan, do you think you can take it?”

Megido hissed at Pyrope before Dave had a chance to say anything, and aimed a swat at her arm. “Terezi! Get out!” Pyrope dodged a second swat, and absconded, laughing. Megido hissed again, then smiled. “I just wanted to talk to you a little more privately, but if you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” Megido said. 

“I guess I don’t mind, mistress,” Dave said.

“And I’m not going to propagandize you! If you’re really curious about the Progressive Movement, you can ask me or Terezi, or you can look it up yourself,” Megido said.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“About you,” Aradia said. “I’d like to get to know you.” She smiled. “This isn’t an interrogation. You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not sure I could tell you anything mistress hasn’t told you already, Mistress Megido,” Dave said.

“Terezi hasn’t said anything about you that might be ‘personal,’” Megido said. “You don’t have to tell me anything personal either. You can also ask me questions.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “I guess I don’t mind.”

“Fair warning,” Megido said. “I’m a psychopomp, so be aware that I won’t always be asking _you_ questions when I ask you questions.” 

Dave tried really hard not to shiver. Psychopomps were just damned creepy. “Mistress’ paramortem does that, so I guess I’m used to it.”

Megido looked amused. “Somehow, I doubt that.” She asked questions about where he grew up, what kind of schooling he’d had. She asked about his brother, avoiding the topic of his death. She did occasionally ask questions not precisely meant for him but for his dead (or apparently, one of his “souls”) and once or twice, she actually _answered_ a question that Dave hadn’t asked or couldn’t hear. (It was creepy as hell and made the hair on his neck stand up.) She asked him what he thought about Pyrope, about her team. She gently inquired about his feelings for Pyrope. “I do understand that you don’t precisely feel ‘moirallegiance’ for Terezi. But am I right in thinking that you do feel something?”

Dave nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad,” Megido said. “Terezi needs a moirail. She’s done very well on her own until now, but she needs someone who can confront her, who isn’t also a rival.”

“I can try,” Dave said. “I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“Don’t think of it as another duty, even if you’re tempted to do so,” Aradia said. “Being a high blood’s matesprit or moirail can be extremely difficult. If you have any questions, or need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll send you the information to message me or to leave messages in my drop boxes.”

“Thank you,” Dave said.

“Do you have any questions for me, Dave?” Aradia asked.

Dave nodded. “Yeah, I think I do,” he said, and started asking questions about the Progressive Movement.

 


	13. In which the Neophyte enacts a common pale romantic comedy cliché, there is an ashen pile and the first leg of a journey.

Eavesdropping on the first meeting between a potential moirail and the protagonist’s matesprit was pretty much a cliché. Just about every pale rom com Terezi had ever been persuaded to sit through by Karkat had some variation of it. This did not stop Terezi from doing it however. (Even though she knew the repercussions if she were caught would not be in any way funny.) Too much could go wrong (and she told herself) Aradia did not know Dave as well as she did, which would increase the likelihood of something going wrong.  She sat down with her back against the wall, and listened to her matesprit talk to Dave.   




“I guess I don’t mind, mistress,” Dave said.

“And I’m not going to propagandize you! If you’re really curious about the Progressive Movement, you can ask me or Terezi, or you can look it up yourself,” Aradia said.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“About you,” Aradia said. “I’d like to get to know you.” There was a pause. “This isn’t an interrogation. You don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to.”

“I’m not sure I could tell you anything mistress hasn’t told you already, Mistress Megido,” Dave said.

“Terezi hasn’t said anything about you that might be ‘personal,’” Aradia said reassuringly. “You don’t have to tell me anything personal either. You can also ask me questions.”

“Okay,” Dave said. “I guess I don’t mind.”

“Fair warning,” Aradia said. “I’m a psychopomp, so be aware that I won’t always be asking _you_ questions when I ask you questions.” 

“Mistress’ paramortem does that, so I guess I’m used to it,” Dave said, sounding a little uneasy.

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Aradia said, sounding amused. “Tell me about where you grew up?”

After a moment of silence in which Terezi could sense that Dave was attempting to put his thoughts in order, Dave began to speak. He talked about the city where he had grown up, about where he had gone to basic schoolfeeding and his brother. She skirted gently around the topic of his brother’s death. Then she went on to ask questions about the training facility that Dave had been sent to when he was ten. “Did you have any friends?” She asked at one point.

“A few,” Dave said. He talked a little about some of them. (He spoke of them to Aradia a little more openly than he had spoken of them to Terezi. She felt a little envious of her matesprit because of it.) “My best friend though, my bro, was this kid named John,” Dave said when Aradia asked if he’d had any friendships that were particularly close. “He was dorm-leader and ridiculously cheerful about everything.” Dave fell silent for a moment. “He helped me a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Aradia said, a seeming non sequitur that usually meant she was speaking in Spooky Death Priestess Mode. “You didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.”          




There was a moment of silence, and then, “he was selected for officer’s training at the same time I was disqualified from military service. I started avoiding him when I knew I was going into the slave pool. I didn’t even try to say goodbye and then, he was gone.”

“Don’t blame yourself for being angry. The system is by nature unfair,” Aradia said suddenly. Terezi could taste the uneasiness radiating from Dave. “You had plans and goals but you weren’t permitted to achieve them.”

“Yeah,” Dave said, sounding a little strained. “I did.”

“Do you know what happened?” Aradia asked.

“The port was attacked by resistance forces,” Dave said in a flat gray tone that hid a lot of emotion. “It was a major raid, not just a bomb and run. I heard that some sepoy cadets died holding them off until reinforcements could arrive.” Dave paused. “I didn’t hear about there being any survivors.”

“I’m sorry,” Aradia said again. “Can I be a little unsympathetic in saying that I’m glad that you were here to keep Terezi out of trouble instead of a sepoy soldier on your home world?”

Dave made a sound that was almost a laugh. “I think I’ve caused mistress more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Terezi would strongly disagree with that,” Aradia said. “I disagree as well, so, you are overruled.”

“If you say so, mistress,” Dave said.

Aradia continued to question Dave, occasionally wandering off into tangents where she was doing her Spooky Death Priestess Thing. Terezi would have dearly loved to know whom it was that Aradia was talking to. It might have been Dave’s custodian, or the friend Dave had mentioned. It was hard to guess, and Dave was too disturbed to ask.

The conversation wandered into the territory of feelings, which gave Terezi a very slight amount of guilt for eavesdropping, but only a very slight amount. Aradia asked Dave what he thought of his current situation, what he thought of her and her team. Dave went silent for a moment, and then tried to offer a rote response, but Aradia wouldn’t let him. “It’s complicated,” he said finally. “I respect mistress and her team. I enjoy the work I’m doing and working with mistress. Mistress encourages me to think and ask questions. She listens to me and,” Dave paused. “I feel comfortable around her. She treats me well--and I know that’s rote but she does--and she trusts me.” A pause. “She says that she wants to know that she trusts me, but I don’t know what she means.”

Aradia was quiet for a moment. “I do understand that you don’t precisely feel ‘moirallegiance’ for Terezi. But am I right in thinking that you do feel something?”

“Yeah.” Dave’s voice was very soft.

“I’m glad,” Aradia said, and Terezi could hear the smile. “Terezi needs a moirail. She’s done very well on her own until now, but she needs someone who can confront her, who isn’t also a rival.”

“I can try,” Dave said uncertainly. “I don’t know how good I’ll be.”

“Don’t think of it as another duty, even if you’re tempted to do so,” Aradia said. “Being a high blood’s matesprit or moirail can be extremely difficult. If you have any questions, or need someone to talk to, don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll send you the information to message me or to leave messages in my drop boxes.”

“Thank you,” Dave said.

 “Do you have any questions for me, Dave?” Aradia asked.

 "Yeah, I think I do,” he said. “What can you tell me about what the ‘Progressive Movement’ believes in?”

“In the Movement we say the goals are destruct, deconstruct, self-construct, and instruct,” Aradia said. “That is ‘destroy’ the laws or social barriers that limit us, deconstruct and self-construct involves recognizing how we are controlled by those laws and barriers, and ‘instruct’ means tell as many people as possible. Our primary goal is creating an Empire of ‘citizens’ instead of ‘subjects.’ We’re looking for eventual equal voice and representation in the Senate, equal service in the military and equal pay in all trades and professions.”

Dave didn’t say anything in response. Terezi had the feeling that he didn’t know what to say. (Or more accurately, there were things that he did not dare say.) He was trying to stay gray, but there was heat below the surface, glowing like a coal. Terezi was tempted to interrupt, but Aradia continued speaking. “It is not hypocritical for a member of the Movement to purchase or lease a slave,” she said. “Our goal is eventual universal emancipation, not abolition.”

“Emancipation wouldn’t do me much good any way,” Dave said, his voice bitter and light. “Unless mistress sponsored me, and that wouldn’t be much different than being property. And if she didn’t sponsor me, there’d be no way I could get a job or even get off world except under the table. And going under the table would just get me sold off somewhere else.”

“Universal emancipation, universal citizenship,” Aradia said.

“That’s a pretty tall order,” Dave said.

“We know,” Aradia said. “It’s still something we are committed to.”

They continued talking, the conversation wandering from the Movement to questions that wandered into personal and informal territory. Terezi could sense that Dave was becoming “comfortable” with Aradia. His tone had turned warm, though he was still a little formal. He was speaking to Aradia in a more familiar way, a little closer to the way he spoke to Pyrati or Agneta. She could tell that Aradia approved of Dave, her voice sparked with humor and mild sarcasm that Dave met with his own barbs. It was cherry-pomegranate punch cahoots in her respite block, and Terezi knew she had better abscond, if only to check on Mr. Sourgrape downstairs. She stood up slowly, but her movement was badly timed and clearly audible, because she took a step in the middle of a lull, and the floor decided to creak.

“Mistress?” 

“Terezi?”

Aradia sounded exasperated, and Dave sounded startled. Terezi could hear them both getting to their feet, and had the sudden childish urge to abscond. Instead, she straightened, and tried to look like someone who was not at all guilty about spying on her matesprit and her pale interest as Aradia exited the respite block. Aradia was followed by Dave, whose unreadable gray exterior was cracked by lines of bitter fire and conflicting emotions. There was an awkward moment of silence, and then Aradia sighed. “I have a pile of ashes to deliver to his highness. You two can work this out.” Aradia swept past Terezi and headed down the stairs to the meeting block. 

There was another moment of silence. “What does Mistress Megido mean by a ‘pile of ashes’?” Dave asked.

“An ashen pile is a term we picked up from an obscure and proscribed religious cult,” Terezi said. “It’s a very intense method of airing grievances and challenging behavior.” Ashen piles were intense enough that they might have to go downstairs to mediate soon, if Eridan decided to take offense. He had never been very good at them. (But then, he had never really tried.)

“What did she mean by ‘work this out’?” Dave asked. “I’m grateful for the amount of privacy you allow me, but I’m aware it’s something you _allow_.” His tone was tight and angry. She could not tell if he was angry because of what she had overheard or if he was angry because of the memories that had been brought to the surface.   

“I only stayed to listen because I wanted to make sure you got along.” Terezi said. And because she was not going to lie about it, she added, “I also stayed because I hoped to learn things that you had not yet trusted me with.” She bowed slightly. “I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”

Dave took a shaky breath. “I said things I probably shouldn’t have,” he said.

“No, you definitely should have said them,” Terezi said. She moved a little closer to him, and was relieved that he did not pull away from her. He shivered a little when she touched his arm. It wasn’t a fearful or uneasy sort of shiver. It was tension being released. “To someone, if not me. Aradia’s a good person to talk to, for advice or to jam with platonically,” Terezi said. “So take her up on the offer to talk to you about how to put up with me.”

Dave laughed a little at that. “Okay,” he said. “I will, boss.” He might have said more but there was a shout from downstairs.

_“--That isn’t the goddamn point, Eridan!”_ Aradia shouted.

“Dave, get your sword,” Terezi said, and darted into her room to grab her cane before heading downstairs. She relaxed, but not by much when she saw that they were standing just out of arm’s length of each other. Dave came up beside her, sword in hand.

“Boss?” He asked.

“Wait,” Terezi said in an undertone.

“Do you really think I don’t regret what I’ve done?” Eridan asked angrily. “Do you think I don’t realize what I did was fucking stupid?”

“It’s really hard to tell, Eridan, from what you’ve said so far,” Aradia shot back. “All I’m hearing is someone changing with the goddamn tide.”

“Then you need to get your goddamned hearing checked! That is not what this is,” Ampora said angrily. “The fact that I’m willing to walk to the goddamn jut should be proof enough!”

“Just so you know, it may not be enough,” Aradia said coldly. “The irons have been heating for a very long time, just for you.”

“That is _completely_ understood, Megido,” Ampora snarled. “Credit me with some ability to get _my own goddamn head out of my goddamned nook_.”

“I’ll try,” Aradia said, and snapped off the gesture that signified the ashen pile was over. Eridan clumsily copied the gesture and slouched into one of the chairs.

“Now that grievances have been aired,” Terezi said. “You should know that Eridan is apparently Vriska’s flushed prospect.”

Ampora made a very rude gesture, and Aradia sounded off balance and a little stunned. “Flushed?”

“Or maybe she just seduced me into being in cahoots with her,” Ampora muttered. “Pyrope suggested that the other day.”

“It was a thought,” Terezi said. “But not very a serious one.”

The rest of Aradia’s visit was quiet. She left in the early morning after helping Terezi pack up the quadrant block. “I like Dave,” she said at one point. “I think he’ll be a good moirail for you.” Her tone turned a little stern. “Right now, he doesn’t really know how he feels, or if what he feels is even real and not something that was put in his head by training. Parts of him are very conflicted.” She gave Terezi a pointed look. “Please wait for him to tell you.”

“Don’t make me feel any more like a wiggler than I already do, Aradia,” Terezi said, embarrassed.

Aradia laughed and kissed her. “You’ll be a good moirail for him. I’m told you’ve already helped him in a lot of ways.” She laughed again, a little heartlessly when Terezi shivered.  

“You informant is kind to say so,” Terezi said. “I know I’ve screwed up a few times though.”

“As long as you’re aware,” Aradia said, and kissed her again before leaving.

 The next evening, Terezi, her team, and Ampora boarded the space liner that would take them to the station where they would transfer to the flagship of the Heiress’ fleet. They were going to be occupying two joined suites during the trip. Once they had unpacked, she had everyone come to the meeting block of the suite for a meeting.

 "So far, everything has gone pretty smoothly,” she said. “But I don’t want anyone to be too confident. Don’t go anywhere alone, don’t go anywhere without telling someone. If you see anything suspicious report it immediately.” Her team murmured general assent. “Keep your strife decks with you at all times.”

 “And I suppose I’m stuck in my suite?” Ampora asked.

 “Any of us would be happy to escort you, your highness,” Terezi said.

 “Fine then,” Ampora said, though he seemed mollified.

 “There’s salt water lounging pools on this liner. Just let us know when you want to go,” Terezi continued. Ampora seemed surprised that she’d offer. He apparently did not realize how much she did not want to share a joined suite with a grumpy sea dweller with dusty gills.

 


	14. In which Dave finds that he is, in fact, in the middle of a political thriller

The joined suite was on the teal deck. The two suites were separated by a partition that divided the meeting block when it was in place.  One half was shared by the team, and the other half of the suite was occupied by Ampora. It was a little funny how carefully the team stayed on their side, not stepping even a centimeter into Ampora’s side of the meeting block. Lord Ampora meanwhile, mostly stayed in his respite block, only emerging to be escorted to the seadweller deck where the lounging pools were located.

The first few days of the trip were quiet, but the general sense of expectant tension did not waver. Pyrope’s team continued to be on alert, and seemed much better at getting along in close quarters than Dave would have thought. In the office and during meetings, they were a pretty loud bunch, arguing constantly over the evidence with Terezi mediating and occasionally threatening people with her cane. Off-duty, they were pretty tight though, so maybe that had something to do with the generally amicable atmosphere despite the close quarters, though it did not really explain why Coiver and Agneta were sharing sleeping arrangements. Coiver and Agneta had one of the respite blocks, Axumen and Pyrati had the meeting block. That left the second respite block to him and Pyrope.

He was not quite sure about how he felt about it. It made him feel a little self-conscious, as if whatever was going on between he and Pyrope needed to be kept sub rosa. Even though everyone apparently knew about the roses, what color they were and what was under them. He tried to keep it calm and blank, but Pyrope saw right through him, and made it clear she did, though she did not insist on a feelings jam. They played computer games instead, or she quizzed him on the bits and pieces of legislaceratorial procedure he had been picking up from her and her old text books.

When she was not quizzing him, she was also briefing her team about the Heiress. This involved learning how the Heiress ran her court and hivehold, giving everyone a quick course on etiquette and explaining the tenets of the Movement. She also ended up fielding a lot of questions about her friend Karkat, who was apparently in addition to being head of the Heiress’ security, also the second coming of Troll Jesus. This was apparently a very touchy topic. “All I can say is that the Heiress does not consider the cult to be a threat,” Pyrope said in response to a question from Coiver. “The Heiress has researched the Signless cult of course, but she follows the state religion.”

“But does she support them?” Coiver asked stubbornly.

“What did I just say, Coiver?” Pyrope asked with an exasperation that made Agneta snort and Axumen and Pyrati smirk a little. “I am not just saying it because I can’t tell you; I actually don’t know!”

“I’d say not,” Ampora said suddenly. He was standing near the invisible line marking off his side from the team’s side. “Since she’s not livin’ in a cave somewhere living on bats and chirpin’ insects.”

“An adequately stated point, your highness,” Pyrope said. “The Heiress is not likely to go into formal seclusion at any time in the near future.” She paused. “Do you require anything, your highness?”

Ampora’s eyes narrowed a little. “Just an escort to the ship’s gym,” he said.

“Coiver--” Terezi began, but Ampora interrupted.

“Not him,” Ampora said, and then pointed at Dave. “Your slave.” His tone was subtly challenging.

Pyrope’s mouth twisted and she looked as if she wanted to refuse, point blank. Instead, she turned her face in Dave’s direction. _Your call_ , her expression said. _I’ll back you up._      

In a strange way, the tacit permission to refuse made him want to go, even if Pyrope clearly did not want him to. Dave stood up. “I’ll get my strife deck,” he said, and went into the respite block. He clipped it to his belt, opened the door for Ampora, and then followed him out. He took up a guard position to the left and two paces behind. The people they passed as they went down the corridor immediately made way for Ampora, who had the sort of blithe disregard for “right of way” that most of the high nobility seemed to possess.

The ship’s gym was in the main social gathering and entertainment area. It was surrounded by restaurants, spas, dance clubs and theaters. The corridors were wider here, opening out into courtyards with high ceilings and galleries. The gym itself was divided by hemospectrum, and as they passed by the rust section, Dave almost tripped over his own feet.

A martial arts match of some kind was going on, and in attendance was a small knot of humans. They were VIPs of some kind, escorted by human soldiers. He froze for a moment, because he had drawn the attention of the soldiers, and then the human VIPs. The VIPs, a middle-aged man, an athletic looking older woman, and two kids, a seventh sweep girl and a boy of about four. The woman had a frown on her face as she turned to one of her guards, clearly asking him a question and not liking the response she received. _Nothing you need to worry about Ma’am._   

Ampora, who had come to a stop at the same time Dave had, broke the spell with an exasperated sounding huff from his gill slits. _Glub._ Dave gave himself a mental shake. “Sorry, your highness,” he said. Ampora gave him an unreadable look and continued toward the seadweller section of the gym. Dave followed, not bothering to glance back at the little group. He wondered who they were, and where they were going, and what made them think it would be a good idea to bring kids with them.

Ampora did his work out, and more or less pretended that Dave was furniture. Dave was extremely okay with this arrangement, and continued to play attendant. After the work out, Ampora took a seat at a concession stand just outside the gym. (But neglecting to give him any money, which meant Dave had to pay for it out of his own pocket.) Dave brought the order back to the table, set the tray down, and stood behind Ampora, just slightly to the left. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen much of your own kind,” Ampora said suddenly.

It was an unexpected sort of question. “No highness. There were only a few thousand on-world, not counting military personnel.”

“Been doing a little reading,” Ampora said. “Your kind are naturally more gregarious than trolls, isn’t that so?”   

“I suppose so, your highness, if that’s what your research suggests.” Then his sense took a leave of absence. “Highness, I am unsure about the direction you’re going in, with this interrogation.”

“Don’t like being questioned when it’s not the legislacerator?” Ampora asked.

“Highness, I will of course answer any question you ask, provided it is not information which is confidential to my mistress,” Dave said.

“You’re _gregarious_ with her. And she’s pretty damned _protective_ of you,” Ampora said. “And stand where I can fuckin’ see you.”  

Dave obeyed, stepping out from behind Ampora, and just out of reach. “Mistress considers me a valuable asset,” Dave said. “As a result, she treats me well.”

“Treats you _pale_ ,” Ampora said. “Don’t know how I feel, having an alien within the constellation of my quadrants. Bad enough there’s _rustbloods_.”

There was absolutely nothing Dave could safely say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. It seemed like Ampora was feeling him out the way Megido had a few days ago. Why, Dave could not exactly say. _Probably just trying to get a rise out of me_ , Dave thought. Get him mad enough he did or said something stupid, and then punish him for it. _Not rising to the bait, you douche._

“You ever meet Serket?” Ampora asked.

“I have not, highness,” Dave said. “I only know of her from what Mistress has said.” 

“And what has she said?” Ampora asked.

“Childhood reminisces, for the most part, highness,” Dave said. He might have said more, but there was a sudden commotion from the entrance of the gym, a commotion involving the human VIPs. He wasn’t sure what had started it, but they were surrounded by milling lowblooded trolls who were ignoring the soldiers demands to back off. Shots were fired, and the crowd went from simmer to a full boil. Dave unlogged a gun, immediately looking for an escape route. He really, really hated the idea of abandoning the group to the mob but he would just have to hope that ship security arrived in time, and get Ampora back to the suite. “Highness, come with me.”

Ampora had other ideas than escape however. “Give me the damn gun, and go get Pyrope, they’re being controlled,” he snapped, getting to his feet. “You’ll just be another puppet”

Dave didn’t bother asking, _what the fuck?_ Or _why would you even care?_ He handed over the gun, and unlogged his sword. “Not leaving highness, I’m supposed to be escorting you. Anyway, the only thing the telepath can do is knock me out, I’m resistant.” He also didn’t bother with waiting for permission, heading forward, and scanning the edge of the crowd, hoping to find the telepath. Ampora swore at him, but flanked him.

“Where the fuck is ship security?” Ampora snarled the question.

“Fuck if I know, highness,” Dave said. The alarms were going off, but there was no security in sight. There were more gunshots, and screams. He didn’t have much time to wonder about the lack of security as blank faced trolls mobbed both him and Ampora. The crowd was mostly fistkind but there were also knives and a few scattered swords, and a sickle or two.

Dave shouted in Alternian and English, to let the soldiers know that he and Ampora were coming to support them. Dave hacked and smashed his way through the crowd, and Ampora emptied out the gun, then picked up a dropped sword and kept fighting. The floor went slippery under Dave’s boots from blood, and he was almost knocked down twice. Once after being knocked into Ampora, and once from behind with what felt like a club. Both times, Ampora kept him from falling.   

Dave’s head was pounding from the shrieking alarm and what was probably the telepath trying to worm their way into his thinkpan. At one point, he almost got his head taken off by a longhorn’s swipe. He blocked and his sword slid with a rasp down the length of the horn, notching the curve, then flashed back around, bisecting the troll’s ear and smashing into bone.   

By the time they reached the humans, two of the soldiers were down, wounded or knocked out by the telepath. One of the VIPs was down as well, the middle aged man. The woman was applying pressure to a bullet wound. The kids were wide eyed and still with a combination of fear and excitement. Of the remaining three soldiers, two were using swordkind and axekind while a third was getting ready to toss--“Ampora, eyes!”

The flash grenade went off like a miniature nova. Trolls screamed and the mob broke apart as some of them broke free of the compulsion and absconded. The grenade was one of the ones that flashed multiple times and Ampora got caught by the second flash. Dave shoved the swearing and flailing Ampora to the deck, right in front of the startled VIP. “Sorry highness,” Dave said, and met the gaze of the VIP. “Lord Ampora elected to come to your assistance, ma’am.” Then he turned back because there were still trolls attacking, though now they seemed to be trying to escape. Security was finally showing up, with Pyrope in the lead.

He had seen her fight before, and he had sparred with her, but this was the first time he had seen her in a brawl. She was fast, used a two weapon style using her sword cane and was completely bugfuck crazy, happily launching herself at trolls twice her height. She tore into the remaining trolls like a buzzsaw, while the security team captured any stragglers. She worked her way toward him. “Dave, can’t you stay out of trouble?” She asked as she reached him. She looked at the humans, and turned back to the security team. “Hey, we need a medical team down here!” She shouted toward the security team. Ampora seconded the order, rising to his feet. The human VIP was being helped to her feet by the soldiers.

“Thank you for the assistance, lady,” the woman said. Her Alternian had a strong accent that he couldn’t really place. She glanced from Dave to Pyrope, a slight frown on her face.

“Neophyte Legislacerator Terezi Pyrope, and at the moment, you are potentially one of two things; a witness, or a client,” Pyrope said. “So I will be detaining you for questioning.”

“Neophyte,” one of the soldiers said in Alternian. “This lady is the Civil Defense Director for North America, Earth, Selene Marcus. She received a personal invitation from the Heiress to a conference.”

“Then this is practically platonic Serendipity,” Pyrope said with a bright smile. She turned to Dave. “Stay with the humans while I explain to the security team that this is my crime scene. Lord Ampora, please come with me.”

“Wouldn’t be better if--“ Ampora started, but Pyrope didn’t let him get a word in.

“You are not part of my team, highness. Dave is. Please accompany me,” She smiled again, showing all her teeth.

 “Fine, then,” Ampora said, and fell in step behind Pyrope as she cheerfully stalked off to take control of the scene.   

 That left him with the human soldiers and a very confused VIP. Dave logged his weapons and bowed, wishing he were not wearing his everyday clothes. _“Madame Director,”_ he said in English, then continued in Alternian, “my mistress will be investigating this attack and apprehending those responsible. Please consider yourself her client; I’ll explain what that entails once we reach the ship’s infirmary.”

The VIP looked confused and angry, but she took a sharp breath and and said in a relatively calm voice, “I suppose we don’t have much choice in matters.”

“Mistress is a very skilled legislacerator, Madame, and her team is likewise skilled,” Dave said. The medical team arrived and Dave escorted the humans back to the infirmary. He ended up negotiating with the medicutioners and took his mistress’ name and trade in vain to keep them from recommending culling the middle-aged man--who was the Director’s spouse--and who turned out to be diabetic. Dave also demanded and got secure rooms in the infirmary for the entire group.

Then he patched himself up. He had some shallow cuts and a lot of bruises that he cleaned up and bandaged as best he could. (They would not treat him citing regulations about needing to have his mistress present. They did however give him a first aid kit.) When that was all done, he creaked stiffly into a chair in the corridor, and the wave he had been riding crashed against the rocks.  

 _“You look wrecked, man,”_ A voice said in English.  

Dave looked up at the soldier. She was brown eyed and her dishwater blonde hair was tied back in a short tail. He recognized her as the axekind fighter. _“Long day at the office,”_ he said, which made her smile.

She held out her fist. _“Black Oak,”_ she said.

He bumped her fist with his own. _“White Tank,”_ he said. They were the names of their training facilities. He felt strangely honored that she was treating him like an equal instead of a washout. “Dave Strider, admin assistant to Neophyte Pyrope.”

“Lieutenant Mary Brannock, Her Highness the Heiress’ personal guard.”

That was a shocker. Dave sat up straight, and then hissed when his side twinged. “What?” Was his less than stellar response.

“Her Highness did a state visit and tour about two and a half sweeps ago,” Mary said. “There was an assassination attempt. Her Highness was favorably impressed by the actions of our company and decided she wanted human soldiers. The Viceroy was more than happy to oblige her since she didn’t seem inclined to blame him for getting shot at.”

“Pretty impressive,” Dave said. “I should probably speak to the Director,” he said and started to get up; getting up however, hurt like a sonofabitch. He wobbled dangerously, his sense of balance completely gone to shit.

“Or maybe you should got to the doctor yourself,” Mary said, and immediately supported him.

“Just bruised all over,” Dave said. “And a few cuts.” He was able to straighten himself up. “I got bandaged up while I was talking to the medicutioners. I need to speak to the Director.”

“Fine,” Mary said. She somehow managed to sound like Agneta at her most exasperated. Dave almost laughed. She helped him over to the room where the Director’s husband was sleeping. The Director was sitting at her husband’s bedside with a pinched, worried expression. She looked up as they entered. “Madame Director, this is Dave Strider, administrative assistant to Lady Pyrope,” Mary said.

“A slave,” the Director said. And Dave saw the only thing that could have been worse than distaste or discomfort or disinterest in her expression. Pity.

“Yes, Madame,” Dave said, and attempted a bow, keeping his face blank despite the flash of anger he felt. _Fuck you. I have it easy compared to the conscripted labor pools._ The bruises stiffening his muscles protested sharply. He was going ignore that expression, and bury his own reaction to it, if it killed him. He was iceberg cold; he was glacial, completely and totally chill. Even if he was a ragged mess, he was entirely, totally stone-cold buried at the North Pole professional. “If you’ve never retained or been retained by a legislacerator before, I can explain anything you might want to know.”

“I’ve never retained or ‘been retained,’ but I took a required course on Alternian law practices in college,” the Director said crisply. “I’m more curious about Lady Pryope’s statement about ‘platonic Serendipity.’”

“Mistress’ firm has recently been retained as the Heiress’ legal team,” Dave said. “She would of course be extremely pleased to have an opportunity to prove herself worthy of such an honor.”  

The Director made a noncommittal sort of sound, and frowned. “I’m grateful that you and the prince came to our assistance. I’m also grateful for your help with the medicutioners.” She might have said more, but Dave interrupted.

“I’ll convey your appreciation to Lord Ampora, Madame,” he said. “I should warn you, he is a prisoner we are conveying to Her Highness the Heiress for judgment. He is not a suitable connection.” He bowed again, and this time, let himself stumble. Mary helpfully caught him before he could fall over. “Do you have any other questions, Madame?” He let his voice wobble a little bit, letting the exhaustion bleed into his voice. It also brought out his accent, which was fucking embarrassing.  

“You should rest,” the Director said. “I’ll ask your,” she paused, “owner my questions. Mary? Could you find somewhere for him to rest?”

 _“No problem, ma’am,”_ Mary said. _“C’mon Texas.”_  She tugged him out of the room into the one where the unconscious soldiers had been taken. She unlogged a bedroll and nudged him into lying down.

“Thanks Lieutenant,” Dave said. His head was still hurting and he was really surprised how tired he was. _Psychic trauma,_ he realized, from the telepath who had set off the riot. He had experienced it a few times before, but had been too high on adrenaline to recognize the symptoms. “Don’t call me Texas,” he slurred and slid into sleep. He dreamed of watching Pyrope strifing with his brother, so fast and so graceful it almost hurt to watch.

Dave woke up feeling groggy, and listening to voices. He could not quite make sense of them, but it sounded like Pryope and the Director. It hurt to move, but he levered himself to his feet, and gimped his way to the door. The voices got a little louder, and he followed them to their source, which was down the corridor to the hospice block the Director and her two children had been assigned. It was a small room that looked even smaller with the three soldiers, the kids, and the Director all packed inside and perched on chairs and medical sleeping platforms.

“My team is gathering evidence, and ship security is running their own investigation,” Pyrope was saying, apparently coming to the end of a briefing. She turned immediately upon sensing him. “Dave, how can you manage to look more pathetic than you did five hours ago?” She asked. “Didn’t they give you anything?” She stepped over to him, and sniffed at his bruises and his bandages and ran her hands everywhere.

“They claimed they couldn’t give me any medication, Mistress, without your leave. I think they were mad I wouldn’t let them cull anyone. They did let me get cleaned up and provided a first aid kit.” Dave felt a little uncomfortable with Pyrope’s fussing, given that the Director was watching with a frown. Dave took the opportunity to frown right back at her, over Pyrope’s shoulder. “I’m fine, Mistress.”

“Go sit down, Dave,” Pyrope said. “We’ll go talk to medicutioners after I get done speaking to the Director.”

Dave looked around, and Mary got up to direct him to the chair she just vacated. _“I should have realized they’d do that,”_ Mary said in an undertone. She was giving him a concerned look. _“Sorry, man, I should have asked.”_

 _“It’s okay,”_ he said shortly. _“Pyrope will kick their asses for me.”_

 _“If you say so,”_ Mary said, eyebrows going up.

The legislacerator herself was still faced in his direction. She was giving him a, _you are translating that later,_ look before crisply turning back to the Director. “Lady,” Pyrope said, giving the Director a title upgrade. “I am going to propose something that you will probably not like very much.”

The Director’s expression turned curious, and wary. “What is it?”

“Your previous quarters are compromised and not very secure. I feel that you and your escorts would be safer in a suite near our own. Right now, I have a team member overseeing the switch.”

The Director did not look really happy about this, but nodded. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll cooperate.”

“Then I’m sure having you as a client will be an unexpected pleasure,” Pyrope said cheerfully.


	15. In which the Neophyte begins her investigation and a cross-cultural lawrumpus is arranged.

“It occurs to me that someone wanting to get into the Heiress’ good graces might arrange a scene that puts him in a favorable light,” Terezi said once she got Ampora away from the humans. His shock smelled completely genuine.

“When would I have time to arrange something like that?” Ampora said in an angry undertone. “And I wouldn’t’ve even if had the time and resources.”

“Then I’m not sure I see your motivation, Ampora,” Terezi said. “If you want to get in _my_ good graces, you’ll throw some of your caste-privilege around to expedite my case.” (Blithely ignoring his muttered “thought I wasn’t to be helping you.”) She stepped over to the security team and took control of the scene. She confirmed that a complete lock down had taken place once security became aware of the riot and a deck by deck search was currently going on in search of the telepath who had started the riot.

She also sent for her team, to begin the investigation. Ampora turned out to be an extremely effective club to wave at the captain of the ship. Another effective bludgeon was the extremely useful Official Seal of the Heiress that gave her and her team all the access they could possibly want to otherwise confidential information. One of the first things she discovered that the Director’s guards were actually a detachment from the Heiress’ bodyguard. Further digging failed to uncover any details about the “conference” the Director had been invited to.

“Look,” Ampora said during a lull. “I recognized her, okay? From the newsfeed on the Heiress when she did the state visit to Earth.”

“An opportunity then, not an arrangement,” Terezi said.

“If you want to call it that,” Ampora said. “I followed her in the news. Feferi, I mean. Mostly because I wanted to know where she was, so I could avoid her and her entourage.”

“You were stationed nowhere near Earth,” Pyrope pointed out.

“That was only at first. By that time, I couldn’t stop watching her,” Ampora said.

“Flushed or black?”

Ampora snorted. “Not like I’m a prospect in either quadrant, Pyrope,”

Five hours later, Terezi turned up in the infirmary. The medicutioners spent a great deal of time complaining about her slave, but she was eventually shown to the area where the humans had been quartered. She was met by one of the human soldiers, who escorted her to the room where the Director was staying. “I’d like to apologize for my earlier abruptness,” Terezi said after a round of more detailed introductions.

“I do understand, Lady Pyrope. You needed to secure the scene,” Marcus said. “Your,” she paused. “Dave Strider mentioned that you work for the Heiress?”

“Yes, we’ve been retained by the Heiress as her legal team,” Terezi said. She did not miss the hesitation or very faint whiff of guilt coming from Marcus. It made her feel very curious, and worried, because she had yet to see Dave. “It’s very fortunate Dave and Lord Ampora were on hand to render assistance.”

“Yes,” Marcus said, her voice turning gray and neutral. “He mentioned that ‘Lord Ampora’ was a prisoner you were transporting?”

“That’s right. Lord Ampora stated that he recognized you from a newsfeed back when the Heiress visited Earth. When he realized what was going on, he and Dave went to your assistance.”

“I see. I have a question concerning payment. I’ve never retained or been retained by a legislacerator, and payment negotiations were not something covered in the course I took on Imperial legal procedure.”

Terezi gave Marcus a brief outline of payment procedures and contract negotiation, finishing with, “but you don’t really have to worry about that. I am going to be billing the Heiress.” She then went on to describe what her team had discovered so far. She was interrupted by the appearance of Dave, whom she could hear entering the room. He moved very stiffly and painfully, with a stubbornness that made her blood pusher ache.

Terezi had a brief, unavoidable break from professionalism. “Dave, how can you manage to look more pathetic than you did five hours ago?” She immediately went over to him and inspected his injuries. For the most part, they were bruises and shallow cuts that he had bandaged up himself. “Didn’t they give you anything?”

“They claimed they couldn’t give me any medication, Mistress, without your leave. I think they were mad I wouldn’t let them cull anyone. They did let me get cleaned up and provided a first aid kit.” It was clear that he was trying to make light of it, but Terezi could sense an underlying tension.  I’m fine, Mistress,” Dave said reassuringly.

Terezi could sense that he was very uncomfortable with her touching him right now, so she moved away from him. (She was also aware that _Marcus_ seemed uncomfortable with the way she was touching Dave.) “Go sit down, Dave,” Pyrope said. “We’ll go talk to the medicutioners after I get done speaking to the Director.” Dave found himself a seat after a short, murmured conversation with one of the soldiers. Terezi listened with interest, since she caught her name. Terezi turned to Dave briefly, giving him the, _you are translating that later_ , expression before finishing her discussion with the Director and telling her that her quarters were being moved to the teal deck.

Then Terezi recruited the female human soldier still hovering near Dave to help get him into an examination room. After a number of not-very-veiled threats, Terezi got a medicutioner to examine Dave and provide a prescription. “I’m sorry, but surely you realize that I had to follow the regulations.”

“You followed them in such a way that it could have been a hindrance to my investigation,” Terezi replied. “Obstructing an investigation carries a greater penalty than medical treatment without leave or presence.”

The medicutioner smelled uneasy. “My apologies, Neophyte.”

“Because you did at least give him an opportunity to tend to his injuries, you’ve been more or less cooperative I won’t file on you...this time.” After being assured that it would not happen again, she obtained wheeled devices for Dave, the still weakened soldiers and Marcus’ matesprit. They made quite a procession on the way back to teal deck.

Once the humans had been moved into their new quarters, she settled Dave onto a pile in their room.  “Have you eaten? Should I order something for you?” She asked, sitting down beside him.

“I haven’t since this evening, boss,” Dave said.

She handed him his prescription and a bottle of water. “I’ll get you something to eat. Then you get to report on your impressions on what happened.”

“You’re going to interrogate me while I’m drugged?” Dave asked, reading the label. “I’m going to be half asleep.” Despite the complaint, he took the pills.

“I’m going to interrogate you after you’ve had a nap,” Terezi said. Dave grumbled some more, but he curled up on the pile, and after a few minutes, drifted off to sleep.

While Dave slept, Terezi read everything she could find about the Director, her career and her previous interactions with Feferi. She received a few flags warning her that the Director was doing the same for her, and was a little amused. Terezi opened a memo and sent the Director an invitation.

**[Terezi Pyrope [TZ] opened memo: Cross-cultural Lawrumpus Cahoots]**

**[Selene Marcus [SM] joined memo: Cross-cultural Lawrumpus Cahoots]**

**TZ:** Since you and I are currently engaged in researching the other, I thought it might be more interesting if we exchanged information more directly.

**SM:** I hope I haven’t offended you, Neophyte.

**TZ:** Far from it! You were not going to get very far, with your search string, anyway. Let’s start with basics: I am an active member of the Progressive Movement and have only recently begun independent practice as a legislacerator. My main focus was military and political law. My highest profile case so far was the Abelar/Heloys murder. Your turn!

**SM:** I’ve been the Civil Defense Director of North America for ten years now--a little more than five “sweeps.” As such, I am tasked with preventing insurrections, infiltrating domestic terrorist groups and hunting down fugitives. My most high profile case was the siege of a terrorist compound in Montana.

**TZ:** So I see, in an entirely metaphorical manner! You also worked fairly closely with the Heiress during her visit to your home world.

**SM:** Yes.

**SM:** What do you mean by “So I see, in an entirely metaphorical manner?”

**TZ:** I mean that I am blind! I have analogous reception that enable me to perceive what I hear, smell or touch as “vision,” and which is often referred to as synesthesia or psychometric-synesthesia.

**SM:** I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.

**TZ:** I am not at all offended. My perception is more accurate without the visible spectrum obstructing it. Now, how many people knew your travel plans?

**SM:** I did not give out any information about my specific plans to anyone. In fact, I did my best to conceal our itinerary.

**TZ:** Were you given the Heiress’ Seal?

**SM:** No, I wasn’t.

**TZ:** The Heiress probably should have done that. She was probably hoping you were obscure enough to avoid unwanted attention. Or someone was thinking that it would not be necessary for the same reason.

**SM:** Can you tell me the progress of the ongoing manhunt for the telepath?

**TZ:** Only that the ship is currently in lockdown and not going anywhere until we locate the telepath. Latest uncovered information indicates there may be other agents beside the telepath. Security teams were alerted to a number of fires and minor hull breaches at the same time the riot occurred.

**SM:** And ship integrity has greater priority than a riot.

**TZ:** Yes and no! A riot aboard a ship is held to be equally important as a hull breach because one can lead to the other.

**TZ:** We can talk further about this later. Someone needs to be shooshed.

**[Terezi Pyrope [TZ] banned Selene Marcus [SM] from memo: Cross-cultural Lawrumpus Cahoots]**

**[Terezi Pyrope [TZ] closed memo: Cross-cultural Lawrumpus Cahoots** ]

Dave was in the middle of a day-terror, when she checked on him. He was moving restlessly, muttering under his breath. “Sorry,” and “no,” and “stop,” were the clearest. She lowered herself to the deck near the pile, and sat back on her heels.

“Dave,” she said, and then a little louder, “Dave!”

Dave startled awake, trying to sit up but falling back almost immediately, hissing with pain. “Mistress?” he asked weakly.

“You were having a day terror.” Terezi moved a little closer, and took his hand. His fingers curled around hers. “How’s your head?” She wasn’t going to question him about the dream, just yet.

“I can feel that I have a headache, under the medication,” Dave said.

“I was distracted by the computer from ordering dinner,” Terezi said. She scooted back over to her husktop and went to the ship’s block service menu. “Any preferences?”

“Not really. Steak?”

“Okay.” She sent the requests. When she was done, she set the husktop aside, and stretched out next to Dave. “Did I embarrass you in the infirmary?” She asked after a few moments.

“No,” Dave said. He didn’t say anything for a while. Terezi was willing to wait for him. “It’s more like...I’m the embarrassment.” He paused for a moment. “And I didn’t like the look on the Director’s face, when you were touching me.”

“Why do you think you’re the embarrassment?” Terezi asked. She could already guess, but it was something Dave needed to say.

“I’m a _washout,”_ Dave said. “I was transferred to the slave pool. And on top of that, well, I don’t know if it’s something I can even explain to you.”

Terezi thought about that. “A specifically human thing?” she guessed.

Dave made a sound that was almost a laugh. “I don’t know. It’s an _American_ thing. A history thing about the stuff they had to do that went against their _Constitution_ when the Empire took over. See, on Earth? Most countries had made slavery illegal. It was still going on other places, and there were a lot of ways you could _weasel_ around it, but it was still something considered to be illegal.” His tone was very hesitant as he explained. “It’s something shameful, it’s something the better off like Ms. Marcus try really hard not to think about, so for her it’s an abstract and faceless terrible thing that she might feel sorry about if she thought about it or was confronted with it.”

“I think I see,” Terezi said. “She felt pity, and it upset you.”

“The human word for pity actually indicates a certain amount of contempt,” Dave said. “So her reaction to me--what I think her reaction was--hit me a little harder than I expected.”

“That qualifier--you’re not sure if you’re reacting to her, or just reacting to what you expect from someone of her class and background,” Terezi said.

“Yes, mistress,” Dave said.

“I was going to have you do your usual duties in relation to the client,” Terezi said. “Do you think you can handle it?”

Dave went quiet on her, as if her question had been a rebuke. “Yes mistress.”

Terezi decided not to push on that front. She asked about his impressions of the Director and her _family_ , and recorded his full report on the sequence of events during the riot and afterward. Their dinner order arrived during the interrogation, so Terezi decided to take a break from the more serious questions. She made him translate his little exchange with the soldier from earlier, and then had him give her an English lesson. After dinner, she continued the interrogation and then she had him go take a shower. She left a change of clothes for him (the suit he wore the most often) and took her husktop into the meeting block to check up on her team’s progress.

Pyrati was in the process of going through the security tapes. The telepath had been identified but not found: Nanasi Hybora, lime blood, male. Coiver was going through Nanasi’s room looking for evidence. Agneta was using her secondary talent of psychometry to help Coiver. Axumen was making sure the waste recyclers did not contain an unusual percentage of troll parts. A brief note from ship security stated that they had found two of Nanasi’s accomplices. Their bodies, anyway, they were being kept for Agneta to question. There was still no sign of Nanasi yet. _In hiding or being hidden,_ Terezi thought _._ The only area not checked so far was the seadweller deck. The security team had been turned away at the hatch.

Dave returned from his shower just as Terezi was finishing up a formal request to search the seadweller deck. He was moving a little easier, and he did not smell quite as miserable. “The search has apparently stopped short at the seadweller deck. The two accomplices are dead and their ghosts probably won’t be able to identify their attacker or their employer,” Terezi said. “Go next door and tell Marcus I’d like to continue our conversation from earlier and give her an update, and have the commander of her escort accompany her.”

“Yes, boss,” Dave said, and headed toward the door.

“Dave,” Terezi said as she thought of something.

“Boss?”

“I’m going to need your input for this meeting,” she said. “Be polite, but speak your mind and explain if I don’t understand something.”

Terezi heard him nod, and then he headed out the door.

 


	16. In which the investigation continues and a lawrumpus becomes a faithrumble

It was pretty amazing, or pretty damned ridiculous how much better he felt after a shower and a change of clothes. He still had the echo of a headache and he still had a slight limp, but he was wearing his favorite suit, his turquoise and silver lapel pin (it was actually Pyrope’s pin and an antique, a more formal version of Pyrope’s sign) and his dress boots. Wearing the suit instead of his every night clothes, he felt a little more grounded, a little less likely to take a leap off a handle.

It was probably the main reason Pyrope set this particular suit out.   

He went to the neighboring suite and pressed the guest bell. It was Mary, Lieutenant Brannock, who answered the door. She looked a little surprised, and honestly pleased to see him. _“Hello Mr. Strider,”_ she said in English. _“You’re looking a hell of a lot better.”_

 _“Thank you, Lieutenant,”_ Dave said, also in English. _“I’m here to give a report and extend an invitation to the Director and you.”_

 _“Come in, I’ll tell the director,”_ Mary said and stepped aside, allowing him to enter, and then heading into one of the other rooms.

The main meeting area was a bit smaller than the one in Pyrope’s suite. There was an entertainment center along one wall and the Director’s children were playing a computer game. They looked up at him and Dave nodded politely to them both. He was apparently not nearly as interesting as _Brilliancy Heiress_ however,so they returned to their game _._ After a short wait, Mary called him into the room, which turned out to be a small office/study.

Marcus looked almost as surprised as Mary had at the change in his appearance. He decided to take it as a compliment. “Mary said you had a report for me--Mr. Strider?”

“The Neophyte reports that the search has gone as far as the seadweller deck,” Dave said. “The bodies of two of the accomplices have been found and are awaiting the arrival of our para-mortem. The Neophyte indicated that we might not be able to obtain much useful information from them.”

Marcus looked more than a little sour at the mention of Agneta, but did not say anything about it. “I see. Mary also mentioned an invitation?”

“Yes ma’am. She mentioned that she would like to continue the conversation from earlier, at your convenience of course.”

“There’s very little on my social calendar,” Marcus said dryly. “Tell your,” she paused. “Tell the Neophyte we’ll be over about thirty minutes.”

Dave bowed. “Yes ma’am,” he said. The lieutenant saw him to the door, and followed him outside.

“Listen,” Mary said, glancing back toward the suite. “You saw how she reacted when you mentioned the para-mortem?” She asked.

Dave nodded. “I was going to mention it to the Neophyte, should I not?”

“No, you should, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Mary said. “The Director’s okay but her particular denomination of Christian has some pretty negative ideas about troll psychics, particularly the ones that see ghosts.”

“I’ll tell the Neophyte, but I don’t know what she’ll do about it,” Dave said. He wasn’t sure what to make of the _I don’t want you to get in trouble_. It felt a little warmer and more personal than just human solidarity and concern, somehow. Maybe it just seemed that way because he had been around trolls too long.  

“Just let her know,” Mary said.

“I will,” Dave said, and absconded.

When he got back to the suite, Pyrope was reading something on her husktop, her tongue flicking lightly against the monitor. She tilted her face in his direction as he shut the door behind him. “When will they be coming over?”

“The Director said thirty minutes. I’ll start a pot of tea,” he said. A corner of the meeting room had a small food prep area. It was just a counter with a sink, a small thermal hull, heating units and a few cabinets. “Boss, there might be a problem with the Director,” he said as he filled the pot and turned up the heat to get it boiling.

“What’s the problem?” Terezi asked.

“The lieutenant says that she has faith-based issues concerning psychics, especially psychics with Agneta’s abilities,” Dave said carefully.

“Faith-based?”

“Religious. The sect of the religion the Director belongs to believes any contact with the _supernatural_ is a corrupting influence, and that ‘ghosts’ are actually demons,” Dave explained. Actually, it was more of  an across the board sort of deal, but close enough.

“‘Soopernachrul’ means what?”

“Outside of nature, boss,” Dave said. “With the implication that it’s also _un_ natural.”

Pyrope grinned, tilting her face toward him. “How insulted would the Director be if I indicated that her beliefs are shortsighted and backward?”

“Probably no more than she would be by any other troll saying that,” Dave said.

“I see. How much do you know about the Director’s religion?.”

“ _Christianity_ was the dominant religion on both American continents until Earth became a vassal world. It still has a very strong influence, with splinter groups engaging in insurrection against the Empire,” Dave said.  

“The Church of the Tribulation,” Pyrope said. “As an example.”  

“Yeah, like them,” Dave said.

“Are you of the _Christianity_ religion?” Pyrope asked. “I know you would have gotten state religion indoctrination, but I’m curious.”

“ _Christian_ is the singular, _Christians_ is the plural, Boss,” Dave said. “I had religious school feeding in _Christianity_ that usually corresponded to major holidays and times when my bro didn’t want me at home by myself.” Dirk had never really seemed to have much interest in going to church, and mostly seemed to regard it as a rite of passage. _I did my time, now it’s your turn kiddo. Anyway, it’s important to fit in._

Pyrope clicked thoughtfully. “I see,” She said. "I’ll answer the door. You serve the tea, but sit next to me.”

“Okay, boss.”

When the Director and Lieutenant Brannock arrived, Pyrope met them at the door and walked them over to the sitting area of the meeting block. “I wanted to talk about the case, and ask you some further questions,” Pyrope said as she sat down. “I could also use the benefit of your greater experience.”  

“My greater experience?” The Director asked. Her tone was neutral, but she looked curious, and maybe a little surprised.  

“I _am_ only a Neophyte, Director,” Pyrope said. “You are senior to me and have more actual field experience than I do. Refreshments?”

The Director and the Lieutenant both indicated they would like refreshments. Dave immediately headed over with the tea and snacks. He poured tea for the Director first, then Pyrope, then the Lieutenant. Then he poured a cup for himself and felt very conspicuous when he sat down beside Pyrope. The Director looked surprised, but the Lieutenant did not **.** “Strider was extremely helpful with the medicutioners,” Lieutenant Brannock said. “Thank you for leaving him to mediate.”

“I’m glad he was of assistance,” Pyrope said. “In the time he’s been on my team he has proven to be extremely effective. In some ways, he is more of an initintern than my personal assistant.” She grinned.

That was definitely his cue to say something. “Boss, didn’t His Tyranny Who Mediates say that if you called me that again he’d bite your head off in a literal manner?” Dave asked.

“In his presence! Which we notably are not, Dave,” Pyrope said.

“If you say so, Boss,” Dave said, and frowned dubiously. “It’s your head, not mine.”

The Director’s reaction to this exchange was an uncertain look, as if she couldn’t figure out whether the exchange was supposed to be funny or not. Lieutenant Brannock on the other hand, snorted with amusement. “Mr. Strider mentioned that the investigation stopped at the seadweller deck,” the Director said. “What steps can be taken to gain permission to search there?”

“We’re working on it,” Pyrope said. “They can’t hold us off for very long, and Lord Ampora has offered to throw his weight around.”

“Could you explain the status of Lord Ampora?” The Director asked, and then sipped her tea. “Earlier you stated that he was not a part of your team. You’ve also said that he is a prisoner you’re transporting.”

Terezi smiled. “He’s not part of my team, and he is a prisoner. However, his situation is a little peculiar. He has agreed to submit to judgment, which will be carried out by the Heiress. By certain traditions, he must therefore cooperate. At the time he initially offered assistance, I was uncertain of his motives.”

The Director frowned as she processed this information. “But you’re certain now?”  




“More certain, at the very least,” Pyrope said. “Another reason I didn’t accept his implied offer to mediate for you is that he would have had no concept _how_ to help you, and Dave probably would have had to shoot him again.”

“You shot Lord Ampora?” The Director asked.

Dave shrugged, and acted as if it wasn’t any major concern. “He startled me coming home from grocery shopping. I didn’t realize it was his highness until afterward.”

“He broke into my hive,” Pyrope said. “Because he didn’t know how to arrange an appointment, which is strange since he’s a desk farmer.”

Marcus’ expression was somewhere between stunned and amused. “I...see,” she said, and then, “is that why Mr. Strider was escorting him?” She asked in a mildly humorous tone.

“Something like that,” Pyrope said, and sipped her tea. “Changing the subject, while I was researching you, I found a serendipitous connection between you and my slave.”

Dave barely managed to avoid a spit take.  “Boss?” he asked.

“Neophyte?” Marcus asked at the same time, brows lifted with surprise.

“I’m being a little dramatic. You were in charge of a major assault on a ‘Church of the Tribulation’ stronghold,” she said. “Dave’s custodian was killed by members of this insurrectionist group.”

“Mistress, is that point going anywhere, or are you shooting at random?” Dave asked, a little more harshly than he meant. There wasn’t exactly a no-fly zone around mention of the Tribs, or around his brother’s death, but it wasn’t something he wanted put out there without any warning.  He was extremely conscious of how still both the Director and Lieutenant Brannock got, as if they were anticipating something happening that they might have to ignore. It was a little funny, because he wasn’t really mouthing off much, by Pyrope’s standards.  

“The point definitely has a destination, Dave,” Pyrope said. “It’s even relevant to our case, or at least, our investigation methods.” She turned her face toward Marcus. “In the course of your investigation of the ‘Tribs’ you used human _forensic anthropology_ , is that correct?”

Marcus nodded, frowning. 

“You also made some use of troll prognostication.”

Another nod.

“I’m informed that your religion does not approve of psychic abilities. Especially those related to communication with the dead,” Pyrope said. “Could you explain why?”  

Marcus looked extremely uncomfortable at being asked such a question. “Having contact with spirits opens the soul to evil influences,” she said. “I believe that meditation, the use of ‘psychic powers’ or any kind of ritual observance not in accordance to Christ’s teachings are by nature very dangerous, and should be avoided.”

“But you did use prognostication,” Pyrope said.

“I did not have much choice with that,” Marcus said. “And as much as I don’t like it, troll prognostication works.”

“So, you go by the ethic of ‘if it works, use it,’?” Pyrope asked.

Marcus looked pretty unhappy at that question. She was silent for a few moments, clearly trying to put her thoughts in order. “In some cases, yes,” Marcus said finally. “However I draw the line at psychics who claim to speak with the departed. I feel they are either misguided or subject to evil forces.”

“Well, ‘Death Priests’ are spooky, but I wouldn’t say they’re evil,” Terezi said. “In fact, most of the ones I know are creepily friendly and helpful.”

 Marcus frowned, and gave Lieutenant Braddock a questioning look. “The traditional occupation of low blooded trolls with the ability to communicate with the deceased is mediating with or laying spirits to rest. Their duties generally involved the removal and handling of corpses. This gives them a certain amount of respect within the boundaries of their caste,” Braddock explained. “The connection with _forensic anthropology_ if you were wondering ma’am _,_ is that the troll version of the science also involves psychometry and communication with the dead.”

 _“Ma’am, you should also know the Neophyte’s  wife is the Witch of Endor,”_ Dave said.

Marcus’ expression cycled from surprised to confused, to embarrassed, and Braddock laughed. Pyrope meanwhile, poked him in the side. “Translate, please.”

“Ah, well, I compared your matesprit to a human psychic with the ability to communicate with the dead from the Director’s holy book. The psychic was asked by a king to contact a recently deceased prophet for advice,” Dave said. “The witch didn’t particularly want to, and the prophet was extremely annoyed about it.” 

Marcus frowned. “That’s more or less how the story goes in the _Bible_ ,” she said. “Though it’s not very accurate.”

Dave shrugged. “If you say so, Director,” he said. “I’m sure the Neophyte isn’t interested in scriptural interpretations.”

“I usually leave that to my matesprit and her auspistice,” Pyrope said. “The one time Aradia made me sit through a comparative religion lecture I fell asleep, and it was about one of the origin points of professional Legislaceration!” She smiled. “I would of course never insist that you use the same ‘if it works use it’ ethos in the case of your religious beliefs, but bear in mind that my para-mortem examiner is a useful and effective member of my team, and any insult to her is an insult to me, and that goes double for my Spooky Death Priestess matesprit.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Neophyte,” Marcus said.

The conversation shifted from religion to the conference that Marcus was going to and politics. Pyrope asked questions about people Marcus was connected too, both troll and human, and asked Braddock about anything suspicious she might have seen or heard. Pyrope proposed that a combined security perimeter be maintained, which Braddock and Marcus agreed to. The conversation came to a close as the team returned from their investigations. “You and the Lieutenant can stay and observe, if you like, Director,” Pyrope offered.

The evidence discussion was one of the rare, relatively quiet ones. No one was out for blood, and Pyrope didn’t have to separate anyone with her cane. Dave alternately took notes and poured tea (or occasionally something stronger) for the team. They still hadn’t gotten permission to search the sea dweller deck, but there had been an attempt by some young high blood nobles to steal a privately owned in-system vessel. The nobles had been detained for questioning.

At some point, Dave’s head started hurting again. He tried to tough it out, but Pyrope noticed and sent him to take his medication. Dave felt a little self-conscious about Pyrope being so obviously ‘pale’ at him, but didn’t protest. He continued to take notes until he was sleepy, and then excused himself, heading to Pyrope’s block and collapsing on the pile. He listened to the continuing conversation, hovering between sleep and wakefulness before finally going under.

When he woke up again it was because Pyrope had entered the block and knelt next to him on the pile. It was quiet in the meeting block. “Pyrati accompanied the Director and Braddock back to their suite to work with their security expert,” Pyrope said. “Everyone is catching a few hours of rest. Do you mind if I lie next to you for a while?”

“I don’t mind,” Dave said, and made room as she settled down next to him, as close as she could get without touching him. She was all sharp edges and angles, curled on her side and facing him. Her expression was not soft, not exactly, but affectionate. She watched him watching her, and for a while, neither of them said anything. He wondered if she was hoping he’d initiate contact this time around. He wondered why she had wanted him to join in on the conversation with the Director, and then didn’t bother wondering. “Boss, what was with that meeting with the Director, earlier?”

“Wanting to see how the Director would act,” Pyrope said. “Also, I wanted to make it clear that I valued you and considered you to be part of my team.”

“What about that bit about needing her advice?” Dave asked.

“Complete honesty!” Pyrope said. “And maybe a little flattery; I have a feeling I will be working with her in the future--as a colleague.”

“What makes you think that?” Dave asked.

“The nature of the conference she’s going to, and the attendees which includes the Heiress’ closest allies. This is very significant!”

The attendees were political leaders, law enforcement officials like the Director, members of the Progressive Movement and high ranking legislacerators. That was pretty ‘significant’ all right. “Significant enough someone wants to derail the conference,” Dave said.

“Yes, someone too high up to go after yet,” Pyrope said. “We’ll have to settle for recovering the telepath’s body and pretending the trail ends there. We can’t afford to delay the ship for very long because we have a certain window of time to reach the station where we’ll transfer to the Heiress’ ship.”

Dave thought about that for a moment. “What do you mean by ‘nature of the conference,’ boss? You mean the Heiress’ is going to Challenge, and the attendees are witnesses?”

“Something like that,” Pyrope said. “Only, I don’t know of any other Challenges where the Heiress at the time invited vassal world witnesses. So, I suspect that Peixes has some other knives to sharpen.”  

Silence stretched between them, an oddly comfortable one, though Dave had an uncomfortable question in mind. “Boss, this time you asked to lie down next to me, how come?”

“My conversational gambit, earlier,” Pyrope said. “I should have warned you.”

“It’s okay,” Dave said. “I would have liked the warning though.” On an impulse, he took her hand and kissed her palm. She shivered and pressed closer, her points and angles aligning to his.

She kissed his hand in return and said in a low voice, “I went for it because I knew how you’d react and because it was a high profile case. I am the worst moirail.”  

She looked vulnerable and so young, that Dave almost got the ‘pity’ thing for once. _Megido must have given her one hell of a talking to,_ he thought. Pyrope had been treating him like glass since her matesprit’s visit. “I still--you know I still have daymares about what happened. But that’s already something you pried out of me, and I was angrier then, about all your questions. So if you’re going to feel guilty about something--if that’s what you’re feeling--you should feel it about all the prying you did a few perigees ago instead of letting me know I should send the Director all the goddamn flowers.”  

“I’m not going to feel guilty about that,” Pyrope said. “I’m told that the prying was mostly helpful, probably.” Her smile could have cut through titanium. “And I have a platonically black interest toward anything that would disturb your sleep Dave.”

“Then you might want to turn down that smile a notch, boss,” Dave said. “Because it’s the scariest damn thing I’ve ever seen. All my hair is trying to stand up on end.”


	17. In which a memo leads to a Serendipitous discovery and the Neophyte meets her (potential) brother in law.

The next few days were spent conferring with Vantas and his second in command in various private memos while finishing up the investigation. She had Dave spending most of his time acting as an interface with the humans, keeping them updated and informed on what was going on. Dave recovered rapidly from the psychic trauma, but his sleep was somewhat unsettled, and a few times he seemed angry after returning from the humans’ suite.

When she questioned him all he would say was, “Kids ask rude questions sometimes. And then their parents get upset when you answer them.” If she hadn’t been so busy, she would have probably investigated or pried a little more. Since Dave seemed to be handling whatever it was fairly well, (since she hadn’t gotten any complaints from the Director) she simply made a note of it for later. 

**[greyTraveler [GT] opened memo: Shenanigans ]**

**[greyTraveler [GT] invited Terezi Pyrope [TP] to memo: Shenanigans ]**

**[--memo Time lag 06:00 hours!--]**

GT: Vantas should have sent you the information you were asking for on the high-priority channel. If you didn’t get it, we can consider this memo to be the backup.

TP: I did in fact receive the information! Tell Karkat that we were able to put it to good use and we extracted the agent and accomplices.

GT: Okay. Good. Your ship is three days behind schedule, but this might be end up being a good thing: I have extra time to make sure everything goes smoothly and there are no surprises at the station.

TP: A lack of surprise would be a good thing, yes. On many levels!

TP: I am looking forward to smelling in person the blueberry that makes Vantas flip all of his shit into orbit.

GT: Eheheheh. Likewise, Neophyte. Speaking of surprises, Neophyte...I had one hell of a shock when I received your team profiles. Specifically your secretarial asset.

TP: I am guessing it was not Dave’s typing speed which surprised you?

GT: No. He’s someone I knew, back when I was still in schoolfeeding at White Tank. Someone I spent two and a half sweeps looking for, before I gave up.

TP: I see. Dave has mentioned a friend named “John.” I would ask if you were that John, but Dave has said that his friend died. If you are that John, it would be interested in hearing the story of how you survived.

GT: Okay. There really isn’t a lot to tell, though. A resistance group was conducting a raid and we were able to hold off them long enough for help to arrive. We lost a lot of people--the group was pretty desperate and determined--they were trying to stop the transport of some of their key leaders. I’m not surprised that he thought I was dead. I nearly died, and after the battle I was one second from getting culled by the medicutioner. I’m lucky the sergeants in charge of our class arrived to deal with them! When I got out of the hospice Dave had already been transferred, and my initial search ran right into a wall. Like I said, I spent two and half sweeps trying to find him.

GT: I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t even speak to me after we found out he was going to the slave pool.

TP: As a cadet, I do not think you could have afforded him. As a non-citizen you would not have been able to sponsor him, if you intended to manumit him.  

GT: I know. I still would have tried to find a way though. He was--he is--my best friend.

TP: ...

GT: Something went wrong with the last message you sent me. Instead of words, I see sentence pins.

TP: I am trying to find a way to ask whether your intentions are pale or flushed, and if I have a rival. Also, your message gave me an intense moment of platonic sympathy. Having a friend go missing, having someone stolen from you is a terrible thing. On top of that, I feel as if I’m witnessing Serendipity in action right now.

GT: Let’s make this ashen pile official then. [SYM69L] On my end, I feel like I should be asking you your intentions, but I am not in any sense your rival. What I am feeling is concern for a friend who’s been missing for a long time, solidarity toward an alumnus of the place where I was schoolfed and an immense amount of happiness that my friend is alive.

TP: [SYM69L] My intentions toward Dave are pale. In a way, they have been since I first saw him. His integrity impressed me. His demeanor intrigued me, and I felt a certain amount of sympathy for him that only grew as I learned more about him. I know humans do not have a sense of moirallegiance, and I know he may not be able to return what I feel, and that I have an unfair amount of power over him, but I feel pale for him.        
GT: [SYM69L] As long as you are aware of those things, I will not worry. Vantas speaks highly of you, and Leijon, and Nitram. I believe that you would not intentionally hurt Dave. My intentions are to be reunited with a friend, which may include kicking his ass for not letting me at least try to help him.    




TP: I have no problems with that. [SYM69L]

GT:  Thank you. [SYM69L] May I ask questions about Dave? I would be happy to share stories of my own.    

TP: I think we should meet in person for that. A conversation with a six hour delay won’t really allow us to take the other’s measure.

GT: I suppose you’re right.

TP: Contact me once we’ve arrived at the station.

GT: Okay.

**[tereziPyrope [TP] exited memo: Shenanigans]**

**[greyTraveler [GT] exited memo: Shenanigans ]**

**[greyTraveler [GT] closed memo: Shenanigans ]**

During the course of the conversation, Terezi thought about telling Dave about what she had discovered. She decided not to. There was too much going on with both the case and Dave’s interactions with the humans that she wasn’t sure how he’d react. For that matter, she wasn’t sure how she’d respond to his reaction. Even though Egbert had said that he wasn’t a rival, his concern was completely and unashamedly pale, by troll standards. _Egbert had checked up on her._ Even if she might have done the same for a friend or a colleague, it still felt as if she were being judged by a rival.

It didn’t help that the entire situation reeked of Serendipity. (She would never have described herself as superstitious until now. She blamed Karkat and Nepeta for this.) The classic trope of lovers reunited by chance was a major feature in their favorite movies. It would have been incredibly romantic if she weren’t stuck in the middle of it as the gods-be-damned facilitator of the reunion. (Even if it might not actually be a reunion of long separated lovers; moirallegiance wasn’t romantic to humans.)

As soon as the liner docked, Terezi received an e-mail which included directions to an expensive restaurant on the station. Terezi put Dave in charge of the transfer to the Heiress’ flagship. She filed her final report of the case and spoke briefly to the captain of the vessel before leaving the ship.

After cleaning up a little at a public ablution block, she got on a slidewalk and rode it to the restaurant. The front was decorated with teal neon gripping beasts. There was also a line that took several minutes to get through. Once she reached the maître de and she introduced herself she was escorted to a private booth. A dark haired human was sitting at the table. He looked up with a smile at her approach. “Neophyte Pryope, thank you for accepting my invitation to dinner,” he said.

“I was glad to accept,” Terezi said, and slid into the seat across from him. She turned on the menu screen, gave it a cursory swipe with a cleaning agent and licked. She could sense that Egbert was watching with interest as he pretended to look over his own menu.

“I hope I wasn’t too forward during our earlier conversation,” John said and tapped his selections.

“I’ll admit it felt that way,” Terezi said, and made her own selections. “I probably would have been just as ‘forward’ under different circumstances.”

“For some humans in the military, we make it a particular objective to ensure that ‘everyone comes home,’” John said. “That may have influenced my tone.”

“By ‘everyone’ you mean those who wash out and are sold to pay off their debt,” Terezi said. “Am I correct?”

John nodded. “Yes. It’s something I in particular feel strongly about.” He paused. “Especially where Dave is concerned, even now.”

“Even though you feel that I won’t ‘intentionally hurt him,’?” Terezi asked.

“I’ve known him from the time we were both five sweeps until we were almost eight,” John said. “I was the first person he ever spoke to; the one he went to when he’d had a daymare. We had no secrets from each other, we were _family_.” He translated the last word. “I still feel that way, even if he might not.”

“I know he thinks of you,” Terezi found herself saying. “He speaks of you as someone he loved.”

“He was one of my best friends,” John said. There was a slight tremor in his voice. “He was like my _brother_.”

The drinks arrived, and the appetizer. The conversation fell into a lull for a few moments. “I suppose if I want a human moirail I should become accustomed to human relationships then,” Terezi said. She might not like the idea of someone from outside interfering with her quadrants, but this was not an ordinary pale relationship with another troll, this was a relationship with an alien. Also, when you got down to it, it wasn’t too much different than the traditional connections between moirail and matesprit and auspistice and kismesis. It was just really strange in this case because John was coming off as pale instead of flushed. “What would our relationship be, in human terms?”   




John made a surprised almost-laugh. _“‘Sister-in-law,’”_ he said, and explained the relationship term meant. “Since you’re _‘married’_ to my _‘brother’_.”

“I thought _‘married,’_ was for human matesprits,” Terezi said. “At least, that’s how Dave explained it to me.” Seeing he was about to take a drink, she waited for her moment carefully. “Though he wouldn’t explain what he meant about not wearing the dress.”

It must have been something extremely embarrassing, because John choked on the beverage he’d been drinking. Drops of red sprayed everywhere. He flushed, choked some more and laughed. It took several minutes before he was able to get some control back.

“I--Neophyte. Ow,” He took a few more breaths. “May I ask how marriage came up as a subject, lady?” He asked.

“He yelled something about not wanting to wear a ‘dress’ and _‘marriage’_ in his sleep,” Terezi said. “He explained _‘marriage’_ but was purposefully avoidant about the dress.”

“I see.” John laughed again.  “Wearing a dress has certain gender role connotations that don’t translate very well. And _‘marriage’_ is actually a little more complicated than that. There are legal and social expectations attached to it, that aren’t analogous to ‘matesprits,’” John said. “If anything, ‘moirails’ act more like they’re married than ‘matesprits’ do.”

“How do you mean?” Terezi asked. She wondered who Dave might have dreamed being “married” to. He had been extremely cagey about answering her on that subject.    




“Well, from what I’ve observed, moirails have the kind of partnership I’d usually associate with marriage,” John said. “I know they’re more likely to live together on the average too, which matesprits and kismesis relationships generally don’t.” He grinned.

The main courses arrived after the appetizers had been eaten. There was another conversational lull, lasting several minutes. “What was he like, when you first met him?” Terezi asked.

“For a while, everyone thought he was mute. He didn’t talk. His shades got lost somewhere on the trip to White Tank. I ended up getting him a new pair. We hung out and I’d nag him into doing things with me. He still wouldn’t talk but I eventually wore him down,” John grinned briefly. “He made the best music, and he used some of my _piano_ playing in his mixes sometimes.”

“He still makes music mixes,” Terezi offered. “And composes his own pieces.”  

John smiled. “That’s good to hear.”

“He was apparently allowed to DJ as a side venture his previous owner profited from. I didn’t really know the details, because this work was not in Dave’s official file,” Terezi said. “Because I didn’t know, Dave lost all of his old equipment. I ended up replacing it.” She was a little bit worried about sharing the story. She didn’t want to sound defensive, or as if she were saying, _“I take good care of what’s mine.”_ She didn’t want to sound like a high blood, even if it was unavoidable.

She could feel him considering what she had just said. “It was mostly a reward, and an apology,” she explained. “When I met him, I was extremely impressed by his integrity even under threat of punishment. But instead of buying him outright, I decided I’d make him think I was only leasing his services, so I could see how he got along with my team first.”

“What would you have done if he hadn’t?” John asked. It was a very carefully stated question.  

“I would have manumitted and sponsored him,” Terezi said without hesitation. “And probably would have sent him through my contacts to wherever he wanted to go.”

“That would have been inconvenient and possibly expensive for you,” John said.

“I know,” Terezi said. “I still would have done it though.”

She heard John nod. “I’m glad a member of the Movement found him,” he said.

“ _I’m_ glad I found him,” Terezi said. Then, “I haven’t told him about you, yet. I wanted to talk to you first, and make sure we had some kind of understanding before I sprung the news on him.”

“To see if we could get along?”

“Something like that,” Terezi said. “But I also want to surprise him.”

“And show him off to your friends?” John guessed.  

Terezi couldn’t help the grin. “That too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your mission should you choose to accept it, is to give me really horribly "didn't mean to be rude except they totally were rude" questions two relatively privileged in comparison kids might ask poor Dave. 
> 
>  


	18. In which there are a number of uncomfortable questions and a surprise

The next few nights saw him taking up space in the human’s suiteblock. He relayed questions and information between Pyrope’s team, the soldiers and the Director. During his breaks, he occasionally found himself getting into conversations with the soldiers in a way that was almost comfortable. The conversations mostly drifted toward entertainment with occasional forays into sports or martial arts. Dave learned the soldiers’ names and what facilities they had been trained at, and he shared some of his own experiences.

His frequent presence in the suiteblock made him a familiar enough face to the Director’s kids that their reserve wore off. They didn’t bother him while he was working, but they were usually hovering nearby. During a lull where Dave had completed most of his tasks and was taking a break, the kids decided to make their move.  

“Is Dave your real name?” The younger kid, Nathan asked.

Dave looked up from the professional mag he was reading. He reminded himself that he was the goodwill ambassador for the team and being annoyed right from the start would not be the definition of goodwill. “Dave is my real name. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“A guy who came to our church said they do that,” Nathan said.

Elizabeth chimed in with, “he was from a charity that buys back slaves.” There was a guilty pause. “Mom donates, I could ask if she could help--“    




“Kid,” Dave said, interrupting. “The answer would be no, and if it wasn’t no, Mistress would say no and then be very annoyed with your mom.”

“Do you like being a slave?” She asked, then hurriedly, “I mean, you don’t seem a lot like some of the stories the guy from the charity was talking about.”

"What I like or don’t like is not important,” Dave said, because he could not say, _I like my job but I don’t think anyone likes being a slave._ Literally could not. The only one who could make him say how he really felt was Pyrope, who had no tolerance for rote responses. Pyrope would keep asking until he told her the truth. “And he was probably talking about the conscripted labor pools. They usually get treated worse because they’re unskilled labor and a lot of the time they’re criminals. I’m a washout from a military training facility. More time was invested in my training and what I do is skilled labor that requires independent action and critical thinking.” _You owe the Empire a great deal for Her mercy._

“Does your owner beat you when you mess up?” Nathan asked.

“Mistress disciplines me as she sees fit,” Dave said. “She is not unkind but I try to give her little reason to punish me.”

Apparently, that was not nearly as neutral in English as it would be in Alternian, because the girl looked a little spooked, but not spooked enough to find something else to talk about. “Um, has she beaten you?”  

“In Alternian culture, physical punishment is common and not regarded as wrong,” Dave said. “Which you should know from schoolfeeding and public disciplining events and executions.”

“We’ve never gone,” Elizabeth said in a tiny voice. “I mean, mom has, and dad has, but we’re not even allowed to watch the news if there’s going to be a caning or something on.”

“Mistress is not unkind,” Dave repeated. “And she disciplines me as she sees fit.”

“Do you have to sleep in a troll bed?” Nathan asked.

“Humans can’t sleep in recuperacoons,” Dave said. “Sopor doesn’t have the same effect on humans as on trolls, and it would make them sick, if they didn’t drown.” He was saved from having to answer any more questions by Mary coming in to chase the kids off.

“Sorry about that,” she said wryly. “I would have come to your rescue sooner, but you seemed to be handling it pretty well.”

“Just doing my job as the team’s interface,” Dave said and leaned back in his chair. “The last report in is that they’ve got the telepath in custody. Our investerrigator is working on questioning him now.”

“Your mistress sent a message to the Director,” Mary said. “Mrs. Marcus wasn’t happy that we’re leaving it at that.”

“Neither is Pyrope,” Dave said. “She doesn’t like open cases, from what I’ve seen.”

They talked for a while longer and then Dave returned to his suite. After a brief conversation with Pyrati about the article he had been reading earlier (“Sixth in a Series About Questioned Documents and the Importance of the Chain of Custody Which Is the Chain I Will Beat You With If You Make These Common Mistakes”) then he retreated to the room he shared with Pyrope and worked on his music. He came out again for dinner and the team meeting. His dreams were restless that day, disjointed not-quite daymares that kept waking him up. Pyrope was concerned, but didn’t press for a pile or feelings jam.

The next night he went back to the Director’s suite to work. He spent a lot of time talking to Mary, Drew and the other soldiers in between relaying information and taking notes. The kids managed to corner him again a few hours later. This time around, Elizabeth asked a lot of questions about his job, about Pyrope, about the training facility he went to, and about what he remembered of Earth. Nathan meanwhile, mostly wanted to know about his weapons and if he had ever killed someone. Dave was careful not to go into too much detail.

“How did you end up at the training facility?” Elizabeth asked.

“There was a conscription sweep,” Dave said shortly. “I was homeless and didn’t have a guardian.” He remembered the building he’d been squatting in, and the night sepoys and trolls had rounded everyone up. Kids had been shoved in one set of vans, the adults in another. He had been scared, but mostly numb. After weeks of processing, he had been sent to White Tank.

“What happened to your mom and dad?” Nathan asked.

“We didn’t have parents. It was just me and my brother, and then my brother died.” He was not going to lose his shit over this. He managed to keep his voice calm, but something must have shown on his face, because it looked as if Elizabeth had gotten the hint that this was not good territory to explore.

Nathan however was oblivious. “How did he die?” Nathan asked.

Dave took a breath. “He was lynched for being a collaborator by the Tribs.” 

Nathan started to ask another question, something like, “what did they do to him?” Elizabeth smacked him before he could say more than “what did.”

“Nathan, shut up!” she snapped.

“I was just asking! You can’t tell me what to do, Lizard Breath!”

“Wanna bet?” Elizabeth growled, and took a step forward. Dave was wondering if he’d have to separate the kids, but Nathan absconded, yelling something about Elizabeth being a were-raptor.

“There’s questions you won’t ask? That’s good to know,” Dave said in an edged tone that he regretted almost instantly.

Elizabeth flinched and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Dave said. And because he felt like being a dick, “it’s not like I usually have a choice about whether or not to answer prying personal questions anyway.” It was kind of like kicking a puppy. (And the implied resentment made him feel strangely guilty.) She flinched again, and mumbled another apology. “No, it really is fine. What your brother asked was just not something I’d ever tell a couple of kids.” Not kids sheltered and kept away from anything that might hurt them. Any fears they had would be distant, almost unreal. If they dreamed of fire, they wouldn’t know what burning flesh smelled like. The only screams of pain or terror would have been in a video game or movie.

The teen definitely did not like being called a “kid.” She gave him a brief glare. “I’ve heard about the kind of things the Tribs did, that’s why I made Nate stop asking. I know I shouldn’t have asked all those questions but you weren’t like anything we’ve heard about, and we were I was curious and wondering--” She faltered momentarily. “Um, I’m not asking you about sedition or anything, I’m not. I’m not dumb, but--“

“Are you asking me why I don’t run away?” Dave asked. She nodded. “Okay. The reason I’m going to put first is that there is no place to run to. There is nothing the trolls don’t own, and that includes your mom, your dad and everyone else you’ve ever met.” That got him another glare, but she didn’t argue. Had someone made the parallel to her before? “The second reason is that I was trained to be obedient to my lawful masters.”

This got him a very faint protest. “But you don’t act--um.”

“Like a brainwashed zombie?” Dave asked. “Like someone who is ‘broken’?” Somewhere in the back of Dave’s head he heard, _“You only break if you don’t give in. If you give in, you won’t be broken.”_ He couldn’t remember who had first told him that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

She nodded.

“And yet, I would never disobey an order my mistress gave me unless it was illegal. And I might do it anyway if I had no other choice in the matter. I was trained to obey, and I am glad I came out of that training even half way sane, because a lot of people don’t,” Dave said. There was no way he could explain it to this kid. There was no way he could explain how they could get inside your head and make you over the way they wanted. And all you would be able to express was gratitude at being allowed to repay your debt, to serve--even saying as much as he had made him uncomfortable. “The third reason is probably the most important, if also the most ridiculous ‘slave falls for master’ romance novel reason.”

The teen flushed, looking a little horrified. “You love her?”  

Dave made a diamond with his hands. “She pities me, in the troll romantic sense. I like her in a more human one. She decided to buy me because she felt sorry for me, and because she believed I would be useful to her. Pyrope is someone I admire and respect very much.” And it could not get much more saccharine here. Any minute now, he was going to bust out with the praises about how being in her service was the best thing that had ever happened to him and how he barely felt worthy of serving such a wonderful mistress. He started to pack up his husk top. “I should be getting ready to go. You should probably go check up on your little brother, Miss Marcus.”

Elizabeth nodded and headed off.

Dave finished packing, and headed for the hatch out of the suite. He was met at the door by Director Marcus who looked extremely unhappy. “Mister Strider, a word,” she said.

“Madam Director?” Dave asked, straightening unconsciously.

“While I don’t object to you speaking to my children, I’d like you to be more circumspect,” she said grimly.

“My apologies, I believed I had been circumspect,” Dave said with a bow. He kept his tone polite and deferential, completely correct. “May I ask where I erred? Or will you be sending a formal complaint to my mistress?” He wondered how much of the conversation the Director had been listening in on.     

“I realize that you’ve been through a great deal, but there are some things that are not appropriate to talk to a teenaged girl or her little brother about, for that matter,” Marcus said. “I’d rather you avoided discussing your regrettable past or what goes on between you and your owner.” She paused a moment. “I am not saying you’re at fault for what’s been done to you. I realize that you may feel that what your ‘owner’ does to you is ‘normal’ and acceptable, but I don’t want my children to be exposed to something like that.” Another pause, “I would like to help you, if you’d let me.”

Dave could not really process this speech. It was a blur. It was an earnest cartoon _wah wah wah_ noise that didn’t make sense at first. It took him what felt like forever to respond. “Madam Director, my mistress intended me to be an interface between your ‘team’ and her own. I ensured that my comments and answers were age appropriate, and did not stray into areas that would disturb your children. I will take care to avoid them in the future. From this point, I will confine my interactions with your security detail.”

The Director looked baffled, as if she hadn’t understood what he’d said. “That wasn’t what I was suggesting.”

“Madam Director, I’m not aware of anything else you might have been suggesting,” Dave said in his calmest voice. “Please convey any complaints about my behavior you may have to my mistress.” He paused. “Is that all, Director?”

“Yes,” The Director said, still looking confused.    

Dave bowed, and let himself out of the suite.   

Pyrope knew immediately there was something wrong when he returned to the suite. She let it go after hearing his explanation, but there was a look that said that she might pursue it later. When he finally went to bed that day, he ended up not being able to sleep well. He dreamed of the slave barracks outside of the main facility at White Tank. It was twisted up with his first few assignments and the night his brother died. He was hiding on a rooftop looking at the fires burning in the park, and then he was in the discipline block, pinned and helpless while the strap came down on his back and legs. He woke up twice, and the second time Pyrope decided to start the night early, sliding out of her recuperacoon and sending him to order breakfast.

“I think you should not go to the Director’s suite,” Pyrope said over breakfast. “Not today at least.”

“I’ll be fine, boss,” Dave said.

“You had a bad night,” Pyrope said. “And you look terrible--but I’ll let you handle this.”

He nodded. “Thanks, boss.”  

The next few days passed without incident. He mostly interacted with Braddock and the other soldiers, and kept his interactions with the Director limited as possible. To his relief, she didn’t make any more offers of assistance. (Or any other offers, to Pyrope.)

Despite the lack of reproach from Pyrope, he still felt as if he had failed in his duty somehow. The tension he felt, the anticipation of punishment, eased a bit once the case was settled and the ship was once more on its way. Pyrope spent a lot of time with him while the ship was in transit. They watched movies together, and Pyrope talked about the Heiress and her other friends. She asked about the incidents with the kids and the Director. When he finally explained what happened fully he felt ridiculous amounts of relief. “It was very nice of her, to tell you weren’t at fault for things that you weren’t at fault for,” Pyrope said. “I am not sure what she thinks you’d be exposing her wigglers to, however.”

Dave felt his face heat. “Pretty sure she was calling me a _troll-fag_.” He explained the term. It could mean collaborator, but it usually meant someone who had sex with trolls. “Her kids are pretty sheltered, and being a troll-fag would be pretty perverse to someone like her.”

“I give you retroactive permission to say how much you don’t like troll-junk if she mentions it again,” Pyrope said.

“I don’t think that would help,” Dave muttered, feeling his face heat even more. “And I just don’t like suddenly seeing it out in the breeze.”  

“I don’t have a lot of control with that, any more than you do with your ‘morning wood,’” Pyrope pointed out in a tone that was almost prim. “She’s a friend of Peixes, so we’ll try to be polite.”

When the ship finally docked at the station, she had him make arrangements for transferring to the _Steadfast_ , the Heiress’ flagship. He spent most of the night making sure everything went smoothly. Pyrope absconded on some errand or another on the station, and Dave didn’t think too much of it. He was just finishing arranging her quarters on the ship when he received a message from her, telling him to “dress up a little” and come to the informal meeting block in the Imperial Quarters. The message included directions, but no other explanation.

Puzzled and extremely nervous because _what the fuck, is she introducing me to the Heiress?_ Dave did as he was instructed. Since he hadn’t been told what to wear, he went with his second best suit. Exiting the suite, he headed down the corridor. He passed crew members and people he thought might be attendees for the conference. He occasionally saw cloaked, hooded trolls who usually had their eyes covered, either by dark glasses or by a veil. They were usually armed with sickles belted at their waists. Turning a corner, he almost bumped into one of the veiled trolls going the other way.

They both stopped short at the exact right moment. “Oh,” the troll said in a startled voice, and made an oddly familiar gesture with his hands, something like a mudra. “I’m sorry.” The troll stepped out of the way. “I picked the wrong day to do a walking-meditation. I usually don’t bump into people.”

“That’s okay,” Dave said. He got the impression the troll was staring at him, but it was hard to tell. It was also hard to tell what honorific to use. The troll wasn’t wearing his color or sign. “No harm done, boss,” he said and continued down the hall.

He was passed through two check points and escorted to the small meeting block. He entered to find Pyrope was sitting on the couch. Sitting next to her was a dark haired human about his own age with blue eyes, glasses and an overbite. He was wearing dark dress grays and even with the derpy expression on his face, it took Dave a few minutes to recognize him, because what he was seeing was impossible. “Dave?” the man asked, and rose to his feet.

Dave was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe. The words JohnwasaliveJohnwasalive were beating in his head in time with his heart. He paused long enough to make that amazing, impossible smile falter. “Dave?” The man asked, and this time his voice cracked a little. _“You recognize me, right?”_ John asked in English.

He knew what to say, immediately. _“Yeah, I’m just stunned you never got around to getting your stupid teeth straightened.”_

 _“All part of my geeky charm,”_ John said, then, _“Dave.”_

And then they were hugging, hanging onto each other in a way that was more wrestling match than an embrace. _“You’re alive,”_ Dave said. _“How the fuck are you alive?”_

 _“The usual way, you asshole,”_ John said. _“I’m alive because I killed the other asshole first. Do you have any idea of how long I looked for you?”_

 _“You looked for me?”_ Dave asked. Now his voice was cracking.

 _“Of course I did,”_ John said, and glared. _“You should have let me help, you dumbass.”_

 _“John, there wasn’t anything you could do,”_ Dave said. _“Even if you could have bought me, it would’ve been fucked up.”_ John wouldn’t have been able to afford it, especially if he’d planned on freeing Dave immediately. He would have had to not only pay for Dave but also how much he owed for his own education.

 _“You could have let me try at least,”_ John insisted. _“Oh god, I missed you.”_

 _“I missed you too, but fuck you for surprising me like this. How the fuck did you manage to be in cahoots with Pyrope and what are you doing here?”_ Dave tried to glare, but couldn’t manage it in the face of that huge smile. He looked around for Pyrope then, not knowing if he wanted to yell at her, or thank her. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. _“Where did she go?”_ Dave asked.

 _“She absconded so we could have a happy reunion,”_ John said. _“Did you want to have her here?”_

Dave didn’t know what he wanted, just now, but he shook his head. “No, I want to know what you’re doing here,” he said, switching back to Alternian.

“A while back, I took a bullet for the Heiress,” John said. He nudged Dave over to the couch and they both sat down. “She decided she wanted human bodyguards.” John grinned. “Actually there’s a lot more than that, but it’s confidential. I’ve been serving the Heiress for a little over two and a half sweeps, so Pyrope knew me mostly as Chief Vantas’ chief pain in the ass. I didn’t know about you, until I got the complete profile of her team.”

Dave thought about the time frame for a moment. “Did the Lieutenant know?” Dave asked.

“I totally would not blame you if you wanted to break my face right now,” John said. This was not exactly an admission of guilt, but it sounded pretty close to one. “I wanted to surprise you, but I also didn’t want to cause any problems between you and the Neophyte.” His smile faded a bit. “And there was the possibility you might not have remembered me or wanted to remember me.”

“I would have liked some prior warning,” Dave said. “But it probably would have been a lot, on top of everything else. So I guess I’ll take a rain check on kicking your ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who gave me awesome questions. 
> 
> costume design for the robed sickle-wielding trolls shamelessly lifted from elanor-pam's Cultstuck AU. Or the Jedi. Or Omega Man.


	19. In which Dave makes a request and Vantas is a platonic Auspistice

****She absconded from the block to give Dave and Egbert some privacy, and to hide the tears that had welled up when the two embraced. Somehow, she had not expected to be so overwhelmed by the reunion, by the way Dave had gone from sheer disbelief to joy, by the way Egbert had faltered when Dave had been too surprised to speak. It had been horribly romantic, even if Egbert had denied that his feelings were “pale.” It had hurt to watch them, but only because she could see how close they were, even after having been separated for sweeps. Once the hatch shut behind her, she leaned against the bulkhead, took a shaky breath and wiped her face.

A slight shifting sound alerted her that she was not alone in the corridor. She turned her face in the direction of the sound, and recognized Karkat. It did not surprise her that he was apparently waiting for her.

He was wearing the hooded cloak and shades of a Signlessist over his dress grays. His cloak however was trimmed with red, looping embroidery. It was very paradoxical, and Terezi told him so as she hugged him.

“Collective leaders wear red,” Karkat said, stepping back out of the embrace. “I am the leader of a collective, so not at all surprisingly, I’m wearing red,” he said in a tone of resigned amusement.

“It’s more out in the open than I anticipated,” Terezi said.

“The Heiress may not support the collectives, but more of the collectives have been in support of her. It’s complicated.” Karkat said. “Thank you for not killing Egbert, by the way. He’s kind of important to both of us.”

 _“Both of us,” being he and Peixes,_ Terezi thought. Not for the first time, Terezi wondered what the precise relationship was between Karkat and Feferi, and how Egbert fit into that relationship. “He’s not very much the way you described him.”

“That’s only because he doesn’t know you,” Karkat said. “Wait until the thin veneer of ‘company manners’ wears off and then you’ll discover what a sack of bulges he is.”      

“He’s Dave’s friend,” Terezi said, meaning, _“If he’s Dave’s friend, he’s my friend.”_

Karkat clicked thoughtfully. “Are you really okay with that? With John and Dave being friends?”

“I’m going to have to be, aren’t I?” Terezi said, a little more sharply than she meant. She took a breath. “I’m envious, a little,” she admitted. “Egbert knows Dave in ways that I don’t. But I’m not going to be stupid about it.”

 She heard Karkat nod. “Let’s take this conversation to the recreation block,” Karkat said. “There are some things I want to tell you about.”

The recreation block was a large meeting block decorated in a messy and casual fashion. Two couches and three chairs were grouped around the entertainment area. There was also a food preparation block and a dining area. In one corner was a peculiar box that on closer inspection turned out to be some kind of keyed musical instrument. Next to it were a few other instruments--wind and string--and a shell drum that she recognized as belonging to Feferi.

“John’s _piano_ ,” Karkat said by way of explanation. “The _guitar_ is mine.” He headed over to the couches and Terezi followed him. “Feferi is visiting some of the other officials who are here for the conference,” Karkat said as he sat down. “And the Tyranny who is going to be sitting in on Eridan’s hearing and sentencing.”

“What penalty is she going for, do you know?” Terezi asked.

“Feferi has several possible penalties in mind, as near as I can figure,” Karkat said. “It depends on what happens during the hearing. She’ll be briefing you on that.”

The conversation wandered from the hearing to the conference. Apparently, Peixes was planning on issuing her Challenge sometime during the conference. He next questioned her about the report she had sent him about the investigation and she asked questions about the Director. In turn, he asked her questions about the incident between Dave and the Director. 

“She upset Dave, but I’m willing to overlook it,” Terezi said after explaining what had happened. “Since I assume I’ll be working with her in the future.”

“That’s the plan. Am I going to need to mediate?” Karkat asked.

“Maybe. Probably,” Terezi said. “I’ve declined speaking with her except through channels since the initial incident.”

“So I’ve heard,” Karkat said. “I’ll be visiting the Director and her family tomorrow and giving out belated and early _birthday_ presents for the Director’s kids from me and Feferi. You could come with.”

“I’ll do that, then,” Terezi said. They spoke some more, mostly quadrant gossip until Karkat was called away by the ship’s Helmsman. Terezi went to see if Egbert and Dave were still talking, but found them gone and a note from John saying that he wanted to give Dave a tour of the ship.

Terezi went to the suiteblock she and Dave had been assigned on the ship. There were two small respite blocks, an ablution block, an office block and a meeting block. Dave had finished unpacking, but the suite still felt empty and vaguely uncomfortable, even with traces of Dave’s scent in the suite. Terezi explored the suite thoroughly, arranging the furniture and décor until she was satisfied and the feeling of emptiness faded. She settled down at the computer console to find out how her team was settling into their quarters and then she checked her mail.   

Dave returned to the suite while Terezi was watching a mystery on the entertainment center. He brought with him a cloud of bitter orange and alcohol. Terezi paused the movie and went over to Dave, setting a hand on his arm. He tensed briefly under her hand, and then relaxed. Forced himself to relax, she thought. “Should I have stayed?” she asked.

“We just talked, boss, about a lot of things,” Dave said quietly. “It might have gotten a little loud. There was a lot--” He shook his head, and didn’t say what there was a lot of.   

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” She could sense it was a question he did not know how to answer, so she gently nudged him in the direction of the ablution block. “Go clean up, I’ll bring you your day clothes.” She heard Dave shuffle off into the direction of the ablution block and went into his room to pull out his clothes. When she returned, he was in the ablution trap. She set his clothes on the grooming counter and perched on it as he took a shower.  

After he shut the water off, Dave hovered behind the trap’s screen. “...Mistress?” he asked. The tone of voice and scent-color was more “why are you hovering?” than “...please go away,” so Terezi handed him a towel. She heard him wrap it around his waist.  

“I want to pry, but I know you don’t want me too, so I am hovering instead,” Terezi said.

“You’re going to pry anyway,” Dave said in a matter of fact tone, and took another towel. “We talked about White Tank, and we talked about things we probably shouldn’t have. He introduced me to some people.” As he spoke, she could hear him dressing. “We drank, and John decided to push. I told him to back off because he wasn’t you.”

Terezi suspected Dave was deliberately leaving a few things out of that account. Most likely, he was leaving out more than a few things. Even the little bit Dave had said so far was upsetting. “I’m sure he meant well. Should I talk to him about it?”

Dave was quiet for a moment, and his uneasiness increased. “Mistress. You said you’d do what I wanted if I asked, right?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” she said immediately. “It wasn’t something I was just saying.”   

Dave faltered for a moment, smelling flustered and a little uneasy. “Boss, all I want is for you to let me handle this. Don’t--don’t be angry with him or go argue with him about it. He was trying to get me to agree to see someone, a _psych_ who specializes in _deprogramming_. He said a couple things he shouldn’t have,” Dave said.   

“Oh,” she said. “I won’t argue with him about it. I don’t want to interfere with whatever human relationship you want to develop with him. What is a sike and what is deeprogummin?” Dave explained the terms to her. “Those are not things I would disapprove of. I’m annoyed that Egbert felt he had to take action.”

“I don’t want anyone else in my head,” Dave said sharply.

“Then there won’t be,” Terezi said.  “Not for now, anyway,” and then, “not negotiable,” when Dave started to protest. She put a hand on his arm, and he tensed. “Dave, do you understand why you’re protesting?”

He didn’t answer for several minutes. Sharp bitter oranges filled her receptors. “I am conditioned to be perfectly loyal to my lawful master.” There was the slightest tone of anger as he repeated the rote line.  

She tugged his arm and drew him into the meeting block. He followed obediently and sat down where she indicated. She stayed standing, directly in front of him. “I will let you handle it. I will not punch Egbert in the nose, however tempting that might be.” The last got her a snort of laughter. “I want you to know your own mind,” she said quietly. “And there’s a limit to what I can do on my own.” _I have been subverting your training_ , she meant.  

Dave went blank, understanding what she had implied. Underneath the blankness, his emotions were all over the place. She couldn’t read them clearly, she smelled traces of fear and something like anger, though not directed at her, and something that smelled red and warm, with bitter undertones. “That explains a lot, Mistress,” he said, his voice a little shaky with emotion.

“I want you to know your own mind,” she repeated. “I wanted your true loyalty, and as I got to know you better, I wanted your moirallegiance. When you showed an interest in forensics, when I first caught you reading my old text books, and even before that, when we first spoke, I wanted to see what else you were capable of.”   

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Dave said. “That won’t sound stupid as hell.”

“Say it anyway,” Terezi said. She heard Dave shift forward, and felt him take her hand in his.

“You might not want to hear all of it,” Dave warned. He kissed her hand, a gentle dry press of lips that felt warm out of proportion to the contact.  

“Tell me all of it,” Terezi said.

Dave was silent for a few more minutes, then, “You already know I _like_ you. I want to work with you, and for you. I like your team, even the guy who has a stick up his ass most of the time. You saying how much you pity me makes me feel ridiculously happy, even if I feel like a particularly ironic cliché. But I can’t tell if I’m responding to you having such high expectations of me, of the way you take care of me, or if I’m following some bullshit script that was put in my head.” His face tilted toward her. “That was one of the reasons me and John got loud. He pointed out shit I was already thinking about.”

“And he implied he didn’t want to stand between me and you,” Terezi said, distracted from the pang she had felt at Dave’s words by Egbert’s apparent duplicity. She might have said more, but Dave squeezed her hand, just barely hard enough to hurt. She gasped and he tensed a little, before continuing. 

“You said you wouldn’t get angry with him,” Dave said, imitating her “calm reasonable” tone, (the one she had used on him, when she “pushed” him) though there was an underlying note of worry. “And anyway, he mostly said it to see how I’d react _._ Like, that’s going to tell him what I really think.”

She wanted to ask, _what do you really think?_ But she didn’t. Instead, she asked, “Did it work?”

There was a smile in his voice when he said, “that was when I told him he wasn’t you, so he could fuck off.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “I don’t know whether to be happy you rejected his pale advance, or worried that this means you’ve rejected some entirely necessary human relationship.”

“No, boss. Not unless he’s changed more than I have after all this time,” Dave said. “We never really stayed mad at each other for long when we were kids. We yelled at each other for a while until some green blood came over, thumped him, and told him to stop being an asshole.” There was a slight, almost guilty pause. “Um. I somehow agreed to play a human roleplaying game a couple days from now?”

Further questioning revealed the general details of gameplay for the roleplaying game, and the name of the green blood--Nepeta. Terezi had a feeling she was going to have to find out more about this Egbert and his relationships with her other friends. She granted retroactive permission, and told him that tomorrow evening, she would be speaking to the director. “Don’t tell me I’m not allowed to argue with her or yell at her,” Terezi said.    

“No,” Dave said. “Her, you can yell at all you want.”   

Part of the next night was spent in a private briefing about the current situation, and Eridan’s trial. Dave accompanied her during the meeting and tried to look calm and professional. (He did not really succeed.) Feferi tried to put him at ease, but was not entirely successful. The private briefing was followed by a team briefing, and lunch. After lunch, she put Dave to work building an evidence presentation for the trial, providing him with evidence she had gathered, recorded and filed sweeps ago, while she caught up on messages and memo boards.

A few hours after lunch, Karkat turned up, burdened by a number of packages that had been wrapped in brightly colored paper. “The plan is to toss the gifts to the wrigglers, and then I play platonic auspistice,” Karkat said, and handed her two of the packages.

“I see,” Terezi said, and followed Karkat out of her suite and down the hall.

It was interesting to see how the Director and her hivehold interacted with Karkat (and vice versa) when they arrived at the Director’s suite. Karkat relaxed in some infinitesimal way when he entered the suite, and the greetings he exchanged in English with both the Director and her matesprit sounded friendly and casual. (Terezi kept to the background, only offering a polite greeting.) The children seemed equally happy to see him. The presents where placed on a low table near the meeting area of the suite and everyone sat down. “I’m sorry that your trip here was unnecessarily exciting,” Karkat said.

“It definitely would have been much worse without the presence of Lady Pyrope,” Bill Marcus, the Director’s matesprit said. The Director gave her matesprit a quick frown, but echoed the praise.

“We tried to get the itineraries set up so that we could protect as many of the guests as possible,” Karkat said. “When Ampora landed in Terezi’s lap, the liner you were on was already heading in the right direction, so,” he shrugged. 

“We were very glad to have her assistance,” the Director said. “I admit I didn’t really understand why you were so insistent about the security measures, until we were in the middle of a riot.”

“We’ve also figured that the conference isn’t precisely a “conference,” Bill said.

“Oh, it’s a conference all right,” Karkat said. “Feferi will fill both of you in on what else it might be. But I should probably hand over the celebratory tribute.” With that, he picked up two of the presents. “Elizabeth, these are yours.” The human girl stepped forward and took the presents. “I got you a journal so you could record all of your mistakes for the _year_ , Feferi got you a disturbing clownfish doll.”

He said it with such a straight face that Terezi wondered for a moment why the gifts had even been wrapped if he was going to tell them what they were. By the way the human girl rolled her eyes, it was pretty clear Karkat was joking. She tore into the packaging and revealed the actual presents. The girl shrieked with glee when the first gift turned out to be game grubs in a very familiar box.

“That looks like one of my old courtroom dramas,” Terezi said. The grubs were too new to be her game grubs, however.

“They are,” Karkat said. “Translations, anyway. Feferi sweet talked TS into it.”

“That’s a thoughtful gift, but I’m not sure--” The Director began, but the girl ran right over the objection.

“Mooooom. _Brilliancy Heiress_ is more violent than this series of dramas, and you let Nate play that!”

“I hope it’s not a problem,” Karkat said. “Feferi thought that since Elizabeth liked the _A Tale of Ancient Days Set Before Space Flight of the Adventures of the Honorable Justiciar Mendicant Tyrsen Atenee_ series so much that she might like to have an idea of how a modern court is run.”

“You have an interest in Legislaceration?” Terezi found herself asking.

The girl shrugged, suddenly a little shy. “Yeah. I’ve seen all three hundred and thirty four episodes of Tyrsen Atenee. I also liked _Corsair_ and _Dragon’s Eye_. Um, those are the English translations of--” and she repeated the Alternian titles.

“ _Dragon’s Eye_ is dumb, there’s just a bunch of talking,” Nate piped up suddenly. “What else did you get?”

Elizabeth looked like she wanted to defend the honor of her entertainment programming but picked up the second present, which it turned out, was in fact a journal and an antique looking pen set. The girl shot Karkat a mock angry glare. Karkat lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “That was from Peixes, don’t blame me. Write poetry, write fan fiction. You are under no obligation to list all the ways you have failed for the past sweep.”

The girl grinned. “Thank you, Mr. Vantas.”

“You’re welcome. Okay Nate, you’re next. Feferi heard you liked collectibles so she sent you her vintage Cuddlefish™ collection...” Karkat repeated the gift giving ritual for Nate, who got the card game version of Fiduspawn and a stack of sequential art story books. After the gift giving ritual and some more conversation, Karkat straightened up a little in his seat. “Okay now for the fun part of the visit,” he said. “I heard there was some trouble between you and Pyrope’s hivehold.”

Terezi could hear the frown in the Director’s voice. “There was a problem, but I was under the impression that it was settled.” As she spoke, Bill quietly sent the kids out of the room.

“It wasn’t settled. I declined talking to you because I wanted to slap you for shaming Dave for answering wiggler questions in a perfectly acceptable manner,” Terezi said. “By the way, I’m not pailing him.”

“It wasn’t my intent to shame him,” the Director said. “I was extremely upset when Mary allowed the children to question him--I was worried that given his situation he wouldn’t really be familiar with human norms--”

“The Lieutenant felt that a supervised q and a would be better than creating a ‘forbidden topic’ that would cause problems down the road,” Bill said, interrupting the Director. “I agreed, Selene agreed up to a certain point.”  

“You set off his conditioning,” Terezi said. “You offered to free him from lawful servitude in a subversive manner. You implied he is a _troll-fag_ which I am told is an insult. He had day mares and the only reason I did not order to him to take a rest night is because he insisted that he resume his duties immediately,” Terezi said.  “And I will say this for him, because he could not because I told him to be the interface: _He did not need you to tell him that he had been raped. Nor did he need you to assure him he did nothing to deserve it._ ” Terezi deliberately projected, letting her voice bounce off the walls. _“He fucking knows.”_

The Director flushed with a combination of anger and guilt. “I’m sorry, Mary explained the extent of the brainwashing afterward.”

“I listened to him _relive_ it,” Terezi snarled back. “And I can’t get my claws in the ones _who did it yet_.” Remembering the horrible choked noises Dave had made and the things he had said in his sleep made her blood pusher ache. Remembering her own mistakes where she had hurt Dave by accident, and hating herself almost as much as she hated Selene right now. Selene had hurt Dave without even realizing the damage she had caused, not even after, when it was clear she had made a mistake. It was infuriating!

Karkat grabbed her by the arm and tugged her closer to him before Terezi had even been aware that she was coiling, getting ready to attack. He wrapped her in a hug as if she were an angry little wiggler. Terezi was simultaneously humiliated and comforted. She slowly went limp because the next phase would be petting and purring.

“Well, if I had any doubts of you being pale for Strider, I don’t now,” Karkat said.  “What Terezi isn’t mentioning because she’s too busy being offended for Strider’s sake, is that you’ve also personally insulted her. You accused her of being a false and abusive moirail, the kind of asshole who mixes and cheats on her quadrants. Someone who pretends at one quadrant because they can’t manage another.” 

“I didn’t--”

“If you say ‘I didn’t mean to imply that,’ I am letting her go, Selene.” Karkat said.

“Go to hell Karkat, I’m not going to mindlessly attack anyone if you let me go,” Terezi muttered. 

“I will believe that when you stop making that noise,” Karkat said.

Terezi took deep breaths and tried to stop clicking.

“I think part of the problem,” Bill said. “Is that at least three out of four of your quadrants are almost indistinguishable from what a human might term abuse. And when a troll claims a human is in any of their quadrants, Selene tends to assume the worse because it often is.”

“That is because most trolls do not understand that aliens are actually alien,” Karkat said. “Also, many trolls do understand and do not care because they are actually the mewling result of rejected genetic material regurgitated into a slime pit filled with hagfish.”

Terezi gagged. “Karkat, that is disgusting!” She squirmed free of his grip, still gagging.

“Lemons, pomegranate, neutrino, glowing, argent, brilliant, mazurka,” Karkat said, listing words that would get rid of the horrible mental images because they certainly tasted and smelled better. “Red, mountainous, volcanism, orange creamsicle, Adeline, mercurial. Feeling better, or should I go on?”

“I’m okay, but you’re an asshole,” Terezi said.

“Noted.”

“Ah?” Bill’s tone indicated a question he didn’t know how to ask.

Karkat explained her psychometric-synesthesia. “I was saying words she actually liked so she could get the images she didn’t out of her head.” 

“Oh, I see,” Bill said.

“Anyway,” Karkat said. “Assuming the worst and trying to do some kind of platonic pale overture caused a problem that no one wants to see get bigger. I’ve already spent about a perigee sitting on Egbert who wanted to make absolutely sure that his best bro is alright--”

"I have been forbidden to yell at Egbert,” Terezi interrupted. “Please tell him he is an idiot.”

 “Already taken care of,” Karkat said. “I am somewhat aware of what goes on around here. And when I’m not aware, the person who is actually aware usually deigns to tell me about it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: What I'm trying to convey here is that Feferi having Karkat around is half a visible fuck you and half playing at Karkat being a puppet-saint. 
> 
> Note: Bill is the calm and sensible house husband, Selene is the tough as nails law enforcement officer who has seen horrible things but is Unable to Become Jaded to the Corruption Around Her.


	20. In which Dave encounters a number of persons, discovers his brother had a fanbase, and gets talked into playing a paladin

_“John, stop trying to tip toe around everything,” Dave said, after the first fifteen minutes of John desperately trying to avoid an entire herd of invisible elephants. “There is no way you’re not going to step on a landmine.”_

_John laughed. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m being dumb. I spent perigees imagining what I’d say to you, what we’d talk about the first time, I even thought about what we might argue about.”_

_“I think I probably would have been the same,” Dave said. He was quiet for a moment. “In a way, I have. One way or another, you’ve always been on my mind.” Even as he said it, he almost wished he hadn’t._

Dave sifted through evidence that had been carefully recorded and boxed away somewhere for sweeps. There was video footage from security cameras, transcripts of encrypted communications, recordings and transcripts of witness interviews and accomplice interrogations. Pyrope had done a detailed, almost obsessive investigation into Ampora’s treachery and the kidnapping.

Ampora had been contacted by an adult, a Senator who wanted to force the Heiress into a more ceremonial and orthodox role. The Senator persuaded Ampora to act as his agent framing it as saving a naïve young fool from herself. Ampora had been reluctant at first, but was eventually persuaded into supplying information about the Heiress. At the same time, the Senator inserted agents into the Heiress’ hivehold and supporters with Ampora’s assistance.

After some disputes with Feferi over her quadrants and power base, Ampora disappeared for a while--to plan an assault. After killing Gamzee Makara and Equius Zahhak, Ampora had fled with his accomplices and Sollux Captor. Shortly after that, he was extracted from Alternia. The Senator sponsored him and paid for his school feeding, though he apparently reneged on earlier promises to put Ampora in line for naval schoolfeeding, because he ended up in civil instead of military. Dave set up a simple layout for the presentation, and then began working on the timeline.

After a few hours, Dave was thinking about taking a break, and possibly braving one of the ship’s lower ranking messblocks when Pyrope returned, bringing Security Chief Vantas with her. From the smell, she had already brought dinner. “Dave, come get the cartons so I can set up the table!” Terezi shouted.

Dave obeyed immediately, saving his work, then exiting the office block. “Yes, Boss,” he said, and took the cartons off her hands. He noticed that Chief Vantas was holding the drinks. “Sir, I can take that for you,” he offered immediately. He felt weirdly nervous, talking to Egbert’s CO like this, or at all, and not because he was the Second Coming of Troll Jesus either.

_“You’re with Vantas?” Dave had asked. He had not known what to think about that. He had been surprised; and maybe a little angry too, from remembered rejection._

_“If I were still as much of an asshole as I was back then I’d play ‘it’s not like he’s really a male,’ but I’ve since learned that line of thinking gets me in more trouble than it’s worth,” John said with an apologetic smile._

“No, I got it,” Vantas said. “You don’t have to juggle the cartons and the drinks.”

“Thank you sir,” Dave said. He peripherally noticed that Pyrope had unfolded the dining table and set up the chairs, so he excused himself with a slight bow. He went over to the table and began unpacking the cartons of food, and separated out the items that had been marked as his. Vantas came up and set out the drinks. Dave was about to excuse himself, but Pyrope nudged him into the nearest seat.

“Don’t abscond, Dave,” she said, and settled in beside him. She began to unpack her carton of food. “You’ll make Karkat think _he_ has a rival.” Her tone was teasing and mostly directed at Vantas, who was giving Pyrope an exasperated look.

“Wouldn’t want that to happen, boss,” Dave said, and busied himself with his carton of food. “I’m no _homewrecker_.” 

He listened in on the conversation, which drifted this way and that with occasional pauses for eating and drinking. Vantas and Pyrope rehashed the meeting with the Director, which led to Vantas explaining how he and the Heiress had met the Director. From there, they talked about a number of people. Some of the names sounded familiar but others did not. Vantas occasionally asked him questions, mostly about books or movies, when the conversation tended in that direction, or music.  

After dinner, Dave cleared away the cartons and Pyrope and Vantas migrated over to the couches in the meeting block. When he was done, he hovered for a moment, unsure if he was expected to join them. Pyrope was not sending him any hints, so he excused himself with an “if you need anything,” and retreated to the office to continue working on the presentation.  

_“Has she said anything about manumitting you?” John asked._

_“No,” Dave said. “Neither stated nor implied. She’s very generous with bonuses though.” John fiddled with his glass, obviously not happy with Dave’s answer. “If she or some other troll were sponsoring me, it wouldn’t be that much different than being a slave, anyway, except I wouldn’t be able to legally act in the name.”_

_“That’s not much of a trade--does that even count for non-trolls? Does it ever really get used outside of dramas? It just seems to me if she really cared about you, she’d manumit you.”_

_“I’ve used her authority as a Legislacerator before, yeah,” Dave said. “Pyrope has been...publically pale with me, so I’d say she really cares.”_  

His dreams were unsettled that day, but not badly enough that he couldn’t get back to sleep when he woke up. They were mostly a tangle of a few of Pyrope’s most recent cases mixed with disjointed conversations. Some of his dreams went into weird, erotic directions that tended to grow increasingly ugly until he woke up--he decided to blame the direction of some of John’s questions the night before, questions about friends and lovers Dave had had. “Not many of either,” had probably been the wrong thing to say, because John had looked worried and started to ask skittering, sideways questions about “sex.” (When the word he meant was “rape.”)

_“Not going there John,” Dave said. “It’s not territory I want to revisit.”_

_“I’m sorry,” John said. “I shouldn’t have asked about it.” John looked away. “I just--you were always by yourself, except for me and our friends, and that was mostly because I was always getting on your case.”_

_Dave smiled a little at that. “Don’t worry John; you are not the only obnoxiously friendly person in the Empire. There were people I knew and even liked a little, but no close friends, and no one I really wanted to be intimate with.”_

Dave continued working on the presentation, and sent the outline to Pyrope. He had just sent off a message to both Coiver and Pyrati to get advice and a second opinion about some of the evidence he had been reviewing when a message window popped up.

**[tinSoldier is trolling daveStrider!]**

**TS: So I realize most likely, I am making an incredibly stupid assumption, but does your surname indicate a relationship with the d. strider who wrote biotechnic: crossover applications in programming and don’t eat the mindhoney: how feral mindbees can be an unexpected windfall?**

**DS: your assumption is accurate in this case sir. d. strider is related to me. never expected to meet anyone who actually read one of his books.**

**TS: His books are extremely popular among a certain sub-set of programmer. Even if they were mostly geared toward his own species, there was a lot of fascinating ideas being thrown around!**

**TS: I had the opportunity to go to Earth a few sweeps back. I wanted to meet him, but was extremely disappointed to learn of his death.**

**DS: im sure hed be happy he left some kind of legacy sir.**

**TS: I was under the impression that humans consider their younger relatives to be a legacy of a kind was I mistaken?**

**[daveStrider has gone idle!]**

**[daveStrider is no longer idle!]**

**DS: my apologies sir. ive been called away from the computer.**

**[daveStrider has logged off!]**

**TS: Shit.**

_Humans consider their younger relatives to be a legacy of a kind--_ Dave closed out the message window and shoved himself away from the desk. It surprised him how hard the simple comment hit him, all the guilt and anger rising up to choke him. (He wasn’t any kind of legacy.) He sat there, and concentrated on breathing, trying to erase the memory of the fire and the screaming and not being able to do anything but hide. Remembering Dirk telling him to run, and spending the next year wishing he hadn’t.

“Dave?”

He twitched a little at Pyrope’s voice. He hadn’t heard her enter the suite or the office. “Boss?” He turned to face her. “Did you need something?”

“No, just wanted to see if you wanted to take a break,” Pyrope said. “Are you all right?” She moved a little closer and touched his face, her expression concerned and intent as her thumb brushed along his cheek. His breath caught in his throat and he shivered at her touch.  

“I’m fine boss,” Dave said, partially motivated by embarrassment at his lack of composure, partially wanting to reassure Pyrope he was fine. “I just met someone who was apparently a fan of my brother’s books.”

“I see. I’m beginning to suspect your brother was a polymath.” Her tone was a little teasing, but he could hear the concern and curiosity underneath.

“They were just books about programming,” Dave said. “Self-published. I don’t think he even made any money off them, not really.”

“But he has a fan, apparently,” Pyrope said. “A fan who upset you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dave said automatically.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Dave,” Pyrope said. “What did they say that upset you?”

“Nothing really. Something about legacies. Saying I was as much of one as my brother’s books.”

“But you don’t feel that way.”

Dave shook his head. “Bro died because of me. If he hadn’t been covering for me, he would have been able to abscond. He was fast boss, you’ve never seen anyone as fast as he was.  But he got caught and they killed him. If I hadn’t run--” Dave cut himself off.

“If you hadn’t run, I think he would have been distracted, and you both would have died.” Pyrope said. “He would not have wanted that. He would have wanted you to survive.” She combed her fingers through his hair in a brief caress. “We haven’t had a chance to spar in a while, come with me to the gym.”     

“Yes, boss,” Dave said. He stood up, and after a brief trip to his respite block to get his strife specibus, he followed Pyrope out of the suite.

When they got to gym there were a couple classes going on. One was a martial arts class taking place in the main sparring ring, led by a dark skinned human, and the other class was some kind of aerobic dance class taught by a longhorn troll with prosthetic legs which was pretty unusual and gold-brown wings which were pretty much unheard of outside of fantasies and historical dramas. Dave stared.

“That’s Tavros Nitram,” Pyrope said. “Aradia’s moirail, I’ve told you about him.”

“Not about the wings, boss,” Dave said.

“His wings are not the first things I think about when I think about Tavros,” Pyrope said, and nudged him into the direction of the exercise equipment.

After a warm up and a light workout, they went to one of the empty sparring rings. Pyrope decided on live steel and “no rules,” and spent the next hour kicking his tail all over the ring. He gave back as good as he got, or tried to. He only managed to disarm her once, and knock her off her feet twice. The sparring match ended with him flat on the deck. As Pyrope helped him stand up, Dave was peripherally aware that their sparring had drawn a small audience of humans and trolls.

One of them was Tavros Nitram, who entered the ring once the match was finished. “Terezi!” Tavros said with a goofy smile.

Terezi greeted the other troll with an arm clasp and a quick kiss on the cheek that made Tavros blush a dull copper. “It’s good to see you!” She gestured toward Dave. “Tavros, this is Dave, Dave, Tavros.”

Dave bowed, wincing a little as his bruised muscles complained. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” he said.

Tavros mouth tilted in grin. “Likewise.” To Terezi he said, “Are you going to be able to come to the game?”

 “No, I need to make plans for the trial,” Terezi said.  

 “Mistress, I think you should definitely come with,” he said. Terezi had hit him pretty hard during the sparring match. He was afraid of John seeing the bruises and deciding to ask questions. “In fact, I insist.”

Pyrope gave him a surprised look and made an inquiring trill.

Dave showed her the bruises she left on his arms, legs and hip, and then indicated the bruises he had managed to leave on _her._ “No one is seeing these bruises without seeing I gave as good as I got, mistress,” he said. The surprised look changed to one of realization. It was clear she hadn’t really thought there might be a problem until just that moment. 

Tavros snorted a laugh at the chagrinned look on Pyrope’s face. “We could always use another player, Terezi,” he said.

“Well, I suppose if you insist, I have no choice,” she said with a grin.

After a shower, Dave accompanied Pyrope and Tavros to the officer’s lounge. They ordered lunch and Tavros explained the rules of the role playing game off the top of his head. Pyrope asked a lot of questions about character class, species, and skill sets and very soon, Tavros was helping Pyrope create a character.

This was a completely new side to Pyrope that he was seeing. She did not play many computer games, and while he knew that she had role played when she was a kid, and that a lot of her early schoolfeeding pretty much involved roleplaying activities, it had somehow not occurred to him that she was a gamer geek. An extremely enthusiastic one--she demanded a download of the game books to her hand held and quizzed Tavros about game play and adventures.  

“We should also create a character for Dave,” Pyrope said after creating her character. “Since we’ve made one for me already. Have you played this game before?”

Dave nodded. “A few times.” Tavros provided a character sheet, and let him borrow some dice and he rolled up some stats.

“You should run a _paladin._ I’m going to be a Priestess of Justice,” Pyrope said, glancing at his character sheet.

“You want me to be your hatchet man, boss? I was going to run a fighter.”

“Your stats _are_ kind of paladinish,” Tavros said. “And we can always use a healer type. Our gamemaster is really fond of maiming and explosions.”

Dave let himself be talked into running a paladin. After some more talking, he and Pyrope went back to the suite. The game would be later in the day, and Pyrope wanted to check his outline of the presentation. He tried not to hover as she read it. “Dave, you’re making me feel nostalgic for when I used to tutor for Mediates,” she said after a few minutes. “Go away before I assign you a paper on Seventh Millenium juristheory.”

“Sorry boss,” Dave said, and absconded from the office.

He went into the meeting block and turned on the entertainment center. After flipping through the channels for a while, he settled on a music station. He watched music videos for a while until Pyrope called him back into the office. Over her shoulder, he could see that a message window was open. “There is a raspberry who is spilling syrupy regret all over the place,” she said and stood up. “You should talk to him.”

Dave started to ask whom she was talking about, but then he looked at the monitor and recognized the user name. “That Tin Soldier guy contacted you?”

“He is very sorry, and since he is apparently the _gamemaster_ for the game we will be going to today, he wanted to make sure everything was okay,” Pyrope said. “Is it okay?”

Dave shrugged. “I guess so. I’ll talk to him.”

**DS: okay so its totally not necessary to apologize sir.**

**TS: No I do need to, because sometimes I’m a dumbass. And I don’t even have the excuse of not knowing many humans. Which makes me more of a dumbass. I was excited to meet someone who had actually known d. strider and wasn’t really thinking.**

**TS: Also: Not a sir.**

**DS: ma’am?**

**TS: Not that either. I’m the Helmsman of the Steadfast, so no honorific applies.**

**DS: ...youre shitting me**

**TS: I would do a barrel roll with no gravitics to prove it, but I’d probably get in trouble.**

**DS: ...and youre going to be running the adventure.**

**TS: Yes. At a distance of course, and I use a little random number generator program in place of dice, but yes.**

**DS: being in a completely different room is one heck of a gaming screen.**

**TS: Hahahah. Yes.**

**DS: okay. but back to my bro. youre going to have to tell me**

**DS: since im not used to being the little brother of a celebrity**

**DS: is there a fan club or something**

**DS: and how does a couple programming guide books have a fan base anyway.  
**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I originally wanted to have Dave answering the Helmsman using Terezi's message window because that made sense to me, but had to change this due to readers being extremely confused about what was happening, even with a cue and an explanatory sentence. Since it seems that no one understood this I changed it so that Dave messaged the Helmsman using his own user id instead of using the message window that was already there. Sorry for the confusion. 
> 
>  


	21. In which an innocent joke causes unintentional hurt and Vriska and Aradia’s secret mission is revealed.

**** _“So, which three of our quadrants are indistinguishable from abuse, as a human might see it?” Terezi asked the Director’s husband._

_Bill Marcus looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Kismesis, for one,” he said. “For all that Mr. Vantas and the Heiress have said otherwise, it just seems like a justification for assault.”_

_“Is the human romantic concept never used as a justification for assault?”_

_Bill started to shake his head in a negative gesture, but stopped himself. “It has been,” he admitted. “People have claimed to have been driven to it. But kismesis seems to legitimize it, that kind of thinking.”_

_“That’s not what a kismesis is about at all,” Karkat said. “It’s a rivalry. It’s outrage that there is someone out there who might be better than you, or could be better than you, but isn’t.”_

_“There’s pornography out there that pretends otherwise, but that’s how it’s supposed to work. An abusive kismesis relationship is one where there’s no rivalry or competition, or synergy. Both halves of a kismesis have to improve without overwhelming the other,” Terezi said. “I’ll guess that matespritship is the second, because of flipping.”_

_Both humans looked uncomfortable at that. “In a human relationship that has become abusive, there is a pattern,” The Director said. “There is a period where everything is right with the world. Then it cycles into a period of time when the abusive person is looking for a reason to become abusive. When the abuser finally attacks, he or she blames the violence or other abuse on the victim. Sometimes the abuser claims to be sorry and promises never to do it again and for a time there will be peace until the cycle progresses again.”_

_“Flipping black or red usually isn’t seen as abusive with trolls, just occasionally socially problematic,” Karkat said. “Flipping would probably be indistinguishable from that ‘cycle,’ if you didn’t know what to look for, and weren’t inclined to because the troll in the relationship is a moron,” he sighed. “And Egbert won’t let me make auspistices a mandatory part of the regulations for relations between trolls and humans in a concupiscent quadrant, even if we do it informally.”_

_“What would an ‘abusive’ matespritship look like?” The Director asked._

_“I’d suggest asking Aradia Megido, but you’d get mostly profanity,” Karkat said._

_“Lady Pyrope’s matesprit?” the Director asked with a curious look at Terezi._

_“A friend of ours had a red crush on Aradia,” Terezi said. “He mistook the face she showed him as her real one. Distant. Removed. Placid. And she’s not. She’s wild and brilliant and her only delicacy and reserve is revealed when she is carefully unearthing bones and pottery shards. An abusive matespritship is one where someone tries to force the one they pity into a role that lives only in the suitor’s imagination.”_

Terezi waited until they were back on the deck where their quarters were located before asking, “ _So this iz yor furst dayt,’_ means what, Dave?”  

Dave translated. “So what I said to John in return, boss, is that on our _first date_ , we went out to the mall, and out to eat.”

“When I bought you those suits?” Terezi asked. “Our furst dayt was that far back?”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he said, “it was the first thing that came to mind. I guess it was because it was also the night you got me weapons.” He paused. “That meant a lot to me.”

“I know,” Terezi said.  

“When would you have said it was, boss?” Dave asked after a brief silence.

“When we went out to dinner with the team, after the house and office were set up,” Terezi said. “Giving you weapons was for the firm. Getting you DJ equipment and everything else was entirely for you.” She smiled, remembering how surprised he had been, and how happy she had made him. Dave said something in English. “What was that?”

“‘ _What do you give the girl who has everything_?’” he said, and translated it. “It’s kind of a joke, because anything I bought would already be yours whether I gave it to you or not.”

“It’s not any kind of joke,” Terezi said, a little more sharply than she’d intended. She knew he hadn’t intended it to anything more than a wry acknowledgement of their legal positions, but his words still stung. They reminded her of the conversation she had had with the Director and way John had reacted to Dave’s bruised appearance during the game.  

“Mistress?” Dave asked, sounding a little confused and smelling extremely uneasy now.  

She tried to smile. “Such flagrant honesty should be saved for a pile, not a public corridor, Dave.” 

“I didn’t mean to give offense, mistress,” Dave said.  

“I know, it just hit me a little oddly,” Terezi said. She looped her arm around his and tugged him down the hall. “Because I don’t have everything.” Terezi took a breath. “And I’m not going to say any more than that, because I refuse to sound like the high blood heroine in a pale romance, wondering if her low blood suitor is truly serendipitous, or merely obedient.”

Dave stayed quiet until they got back to their quarters. “Boss, do you want to talk about it?” He asked.  

“We should. I don’t want to,” Terezi admitted. Dave was silent. She had the sense he was thinking of what to say. She didn’t want to hear him at all, for fear he’d say something he thought she’d want to hear. She absconded, or started to.

She stopped in her tracks when he said her name.

“Terezi,” he said again. “Let’s talk about it. Because something that’s making you run off has to be pretty big. Because you don’t do that.”   

“Is running away what it takes for you to say my name?” Terezi asked, her voice shaking. She wanted to abscond, wanted Dave to stop her, to calm her down, to say things she didn’t want to hear, but needed to.

“No, it got your attention though,” Dave said, stepping closer. “If it makes you feel more egalitarian, I usually think of you as Pyrope.”

He circled her, keeping his distance. She followed him, wanting to bolt, and wanting to attack. “Fuck you Dave, fuck you is how I feel,” she snapped.

Dave didn’t flinch, he didn’t throw the words back in her face. He just circled in closer. He was uneasy, a little bit frightened, but he wasn’t backing down. “You don’t get to run off either, Pyrope. You can beat the shit out of me for pushing you, but you’re going to talk about what’s upsetting you.” He bowed formally, his hands on his knees and then knelt at her feet. The only break in the formal gesture was that he immediately straightened, sitting back on his heels, looking up at her. “I await your decision, Neophyte.”

She still wanted to abscond, she was tempted to kick him, but instead she just stood there, while tears stung her eyes. “Get up, Dave,” she said after standing there several minutes. “We’ll talk.”

Dave rose to his feet and took her by the hand, drawing her into his respite block. It reminded her a little of the first time they had piled together, though it was reversed, Dave taking the lead instead of her. Once in the block, she watched as he dumped the covers and pillows from his sleeping platform onto the floor, and added odds and ends from his closet. “Have a seat, Pyrope,” he said, and settled onto the pile. Terezi complied, sitting stiffly next to him.

“So what I’m guessing the problem is you aren’t sure whether I’m telling you what you want to hear, or the truth?” Dave asked. “Am I somehow evading your interrogations, Neophyte?”

A childish sounding voice in the back of her head wanted to say, _you’re the one asking questions,_ but she didn’t. “The important part of an ashen discussion is that both sides of the argument are made clear to everyone in the discussion,” Terezi said. She could sense that Dave was frowning at the seeming non sequitur. “And when you get down to it, the conversation I had the other night with the Director was an ashen pile. And what we talked about was all the ways humans and trolls can fuck up their quadrants. So I found out that for humans kismesis is assault, matespritship is indistinguishable from kismesis half the time because of flipping, and moirallegiance is ‘ _codependence_ ’ with a dash of extra mindfuckery.”

“And you care about what she thinks, because?” Dave asked.

“I care about what’s best for you,” Terezi said.

“What does ‘what’s best’ mean, boss?” Dave said. “And did that _nosy_ \--I mean, did the Director say she thought you were abusive during this thing?”

“She asked a lot of questions, but didn’t accuse me of anything,” Terezi said. “At the time I wasn’t really bothered by what she said, but I’ve been thinking about it.” She paused briefly. “I didn’t want to jam about this. I didn’t want to ask you if I’ve done the right thing by keeping you instead of manumitting you.” 

Dave was quiet for several minutes. “You were thinking of manumitting me?”

“Only if I had thought you’d be better off somewhere else,” Terezi said. She couldn’t tell if Dave was angry or upset. He wasn’t giving anything away at the moment. “I would have had someone sponsor you, someone from the Movement who’d be able to take you wherever you wanted to go.”

“I’m not sure of what to say,” Dave said after another silence. “Anything I said might sound like an accusation.”

“I can still manumit you, that is definitely a thing that can still happen,” Terezi said. “In fact, I plan to.” She shifted so that she was facing him. “If you really want me to, I will, but I want to wait. I want you to be a citizen of the Empire, not just an individual from a subject species, and because I’m greedy, I want you to have passed the tests for becoming a Legislacerator, at least the written exam.”

Dave laughed with surprise at the last. “Why that last?

“Because if you were a troll, I would have petitioned to have you schoolfed the remedial courses necessary for Legislacerator training by now,” Terezi said. “Because universal citizenship, which is one of the platforms of the Movement, also means that no career or vocation can be restricted.” Or it should. There were a lot of really stupid debates about it.

“I’m not sure I could pull off calling myself the body of the law, boss,” Dave said. “Or being your _poster child_ for egalitarianism.”

“You have an interest in the law, and more importantly, justice.” Terezi said. “You’re close to being able to qualify for a forensitech license, which is another thing that will definitely happen. Even if I didn’t have an agenda, I’d petition.”

“Boss,” Dave said. There was a lot of emotion in his voice, a kind of affectionate amazement.

“Do you want me to manumit you?” Terezi asked.  

“Is it an either or thing, boss? Pick one but not the other?”

“No, it isn’t,” Terezi said. “I’m just asking.”

“Then I don’t mind waiting, boss,” Dave said. He reached out and took her hand. “Being in your service--“

“Dave, no, shut up,” Terezi said. “I don’t want to be reassured that I’m a good--” She tried to pull her hand free, but Dave wouldn’t let go, and she didn’t want to force him to.

“No, you shut up,” Dave said roughly, almost angrily. “I like being in your service. I am not saying this to reassure you or because I think it’s what you want to hear.”    

“Even so,” Terezi said. “Even so, I’m ideologically against you sounding like a cliché.”

“I don’t like sounding like one, Mistress,” he said, and kissed her hand. She leaned forward and kissed his brow.

They ended up talking for hours after that, and then watching vaguely subversive movies until Terezi fell asleep on the couch with her head in Dave’s lap. Dave ended up carrying her to her respite block. Despite her protests, he also helped her undress and tipped her into the recuperacoon. (“Just let me play valet, boss.”) Her dreams were full of confusing conversations with a human wiggler about serial programming while a wiggler-version of Dave played unbelievably horrible video games. The next evening, she awoke to the smell of the breakfast he ordered for them both.    

After breakfast, the atmosphere was domestic. Terezi worked on her opening statement for the trial while Dave finished the presentation. He would occasionally ask her to check on his work, and she would occasionally read parts of her statement out loud. They took a break for lunch, Dave reading something with his headphones on, while Terezi checked her drop boxes. She found a message from Aradia: _Mission a success. Vriska shot non-fatally. We’ll be meeting with the Steadfast soon._ “And you say I give non-informative messages,” Terezi muttered out loud.

“Boss?” Dave asked. She heard him take the headphones off.

“I got a message from Aradia,” Terezi said. “She is being very terse, though it seems to be good news.” Now if Aradia had just bothered to state what the mission had _been_. Terezi had her suspicions, but it would be nice to have them actually confirmed. “How far are you along with the presentation?” She asked.

“Almost done. Did you want to take a look?”  

“Send it to me,” Terezi said. She opened the file when it appeared in her inbox and skimmed through it, making a correction here or there while Dave pretended he wasn’t hovering. “This is good, Dave,” she said when she was done. “Do you think you can get it done before tomorrow evening?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Dave said.

The next few nights were filled with anticipation. She worked on her statement and conferred with Feferi, who would be presiding. She showed Feferi the presentation and the statement, and roughly blocked out what would be going on. The trial was going to take place a few days after Vriska’s ship the _*Fortuna_ met up with the _Steadfast_.

She also spoke to Eridan, who was chewing on the walls of his extremely austere suite. He had been kept completely isolated from the time he had disembarked, and he was going a little stir crazy. She told him when the trial would be taking place, and told him that Vriska had been wounded. Not long after she spoke to Eridan, she was summoned by the Judicial Drone who would be observing the trial. His Tyranny Who Pacifies spent most of the conversation interrogating her on a few of her cases he had “just happened to review.”

The _*Fortuna_ arrived with two other ships from the Heiress’ fleet, _Sword_ and _Deepwater_. Terezi received another terse message from both Aradia and Vriska which confirmed that the mission had been to retrieve Sollux. No mention was made about what condition Sollux was in or how Vriska had come to be wounded. The message Terezi sent back was equally brief: _After you’re debriefed you can come to my quarters for an interrogation party. I will supply the refreshments and hot irons._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes there is a reason Vriska's ship _*Fortuna_ has an asterisk.


	22. In which Dave considers Pyrope and her kismesis, receives an offer, attends an interrogation party, and is somewhat troubled by his past

Somehow, it was a relief to know that Pyrope had doubts, that she questioned her feelings and reactions. That she questioned her own motives, and let him know about it, even if she did not want to. (“I didn’t want to ask you if I’ve done the right thing by keeping you instead of manumitting you,” she had said, sounding guilty and worried. As if he might take her up on the offer and then abscond who knows where.)It was weirdly reassuring, as if her self-doubt were somehow proof that she cared about him, and that he could trust her.

The next few nights were busy. Pyrope was both excited and worried about her kismesis and matesprit’s mission, and she was equally excited about the hearing. Dave accompanied Pyrope for her conferences with the Heiress, (he was slowly but surely getting used to the Heiress). He ran errands, listened to Pyrope vent, and tried not to worry about the kismesis.  

Tried and pretty much failed. He couldn’t help but remember Pyrope’s comment to him about not being ready to encounter her kismesis. That had had been perigees ago, but he kept thinking about it, and remembering Hipidi Hastur, his first owner. The situation wasn’t in any way the same, but being the focus of black romantic attention and being the possible point of contention in a kismesis wasn’t that much different--and Hipidi had been the same blood caste as Serket.

Dave asked Pyrope questions about Serket, trying to keep his questions idle and oblique. Pretending that he wasn’t unsettled or worried. He had the feeling he wasn’t fooling her. She seemed willing to let it lie though, which was a relief. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that particular feelings jam, even though he knew that Pyrope probably knew the details from his papers. He also asked John questions about Serket, and what he mostly learned about Serket from him was that they had the same bad taste in movies. He decided to talk to a third party, and see what they said.

**[daveStrider (DS) is trolling coatlicuesSermon (CS)!]**

DS: lt. brannock vice chief egbert gave me your id.

DS: i wanted to ask you some questions. if thats okay.

CS: Strider! I really didn’t expect to hear from you. I probably should have told you, even if the Chiefs said to keep it quiet. I’m really sorry about that. What did you want to ask?

DS: its okay. i wasnt even angry about that, i wanted to know if you knew anything about serket.

CS: I don’t know her well. The Vice Chief is friends with her, and she has some kind of weird thing with Nitram. The Vice Chief could probably tell you more, or maybe your boss?

DS: most of what i know about serket is from mistress. “she is a horrible charismatic manipulative bitch but dont worry she hasnt maimed anyone who didn’t deserve it since she was six”

DS: thats a direct quote.

DS: my confidence was uninspired if you were wondering.

DS: i dont want to bug egbert about it especially if theyre friends. so anything you might know would be helpful.

CS: Okay. I don’t know if this would count as points in her favor, but she’s a Signlessist. She apparently had some pretty bad screw ups in the past so the Chief dislikes her platonically and she’s in a pale romantic clinch with Leijon. “Horrible charismatic manipulative bitch” is a pretty accurate assessment. She’s a coercive telepath, with limited xeno-telepathy. Is any of that helpful?

DS: maybe. i dont know about signlessists though. just that they think your co is the second coming of troll jesus or whatever

CS: Heh. He’s the Sufferer’s Descendant, all right. If you really want to know about Signlessists you should go talk to one. I’m about as qualified to explain the Signless cult as a snake handler is to explain Zen Buddhism.

DS: okay

DS: thanks

CS: Don’t mention it! Feel free to contact me any time.

DS: okay. i will

**[daveStrider (DS) is no longer trolling coatlicuesSermon (CS)!]**

Dave closed out the window, and sat back in his chair. He was probably overthinking this, but he couldn’t help but be worried. He trusted Pyrope not to put him into play, and he knew she wouldn’t let Serket fuck with him. At the same time, he remembered Pyrope telling him about how Serket blinded her. Serket had also quite purposely used her telepathy to walk Nitram off a cliff. Dave wanted to ask John how he’d ended up friends with Serket, but didn’t quite dare.   




Still worrying about Serket, Dave finished with the arrangements for Pyrope’s “interrogation party.” He had ordered snacks and drinks from the officer’s mess and did some light housekeeping after which he had a few hours to kill before he had to go pick up his orders. He decided to go through the folder TS had sent him of his brother’s books and other writings. It was a lot more than what Dave had thought. There were two books on programing, one on mind bee apiculture, a handful of articles, essays and poetry and even fan fiction and ironic parodies. (The Helmsman was obviously a very dedicated fan.)

Terezi had half-jokingly called Dirk a polymath. (And somewhere in the back of his head, there was still a little kid who believed his Bro could do anything, who agreed with her.) From skimming through the folder full of Dirk’s writing, Dave was beginning to see there were a lot of things Dirk had kept hidden from him. The poetry and some of the essays had a slant that was religious, more religious that Dave could ever remember Dirk being when he was alive. (It was not anything overt, and it did not seem to be any specific religion, there was just a sense that Dirk was talking about religion in the most oblique manner possible.) It was strange and a little unsettling knowing that there was more to Dirk than Dave had ever known.   




Dave was still reading when he got the call to come pick up the snacks and drinks. He picked up the food and started setting up for the party. Pyrope had been pretty specific about what she wanted. So he set out the food, printed out the banner Pyrope made-- _Block is now in Session, Judge Terezi Pyrope Presiding! (Thank you for not getting killed!)_ \--and queued up the playlists, and hoped really hard that Pyrope would come home before Serket arrived.

Much to his relief, Megido was the first to arrive. “Mistress Megido, Mistress Pyrope has been in conferences for most of the evening,” Dave said as he stood aside to let Megido enter. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you Dave,” Megido said with a smile. She headed over to the couch and filled her plate with crispy battered bugs and something that looked like black bean dip but probably wasn’t. “Would telling you to relax and sit down make you more nervous, or less?” She asked.

“Probably more, Mistress Megido,” he said.

“How about just ‘Megido’?” she asked. “Since you are almost my brother, and this is a _family_ _gathering_.” She said the last in faintly accented English.

“I guess I could do that,” Dave said. He decided to sit on the end of the couch, mostly because he was pretty sure Pyrope would have told him to by now. “What do you mean by ‘almost my brother?’” Dave asked.

“You and Terezi aren’t ‘officially’ moirails yet,” Megido said. “Even if you’re growing closer.”

“There isn’t some kind of special ceremony, is there?” There didn’t seem to be in any of the movies he’d seen. In the movies, there was usually just a climactic moment where one of the two moirails was subdued, and they suddenly realized they were moirails. Then there would be some kind of exchange of tokens and a party after. A ring with a diamond shaped setting, a pendant, occasionally an article of clothing, a tattoo or other marking that incorporated the quadrant mark with the moirail’s sign.    

“Stylized wings because of _seppucrow_ maybe _?_ ” Megido asked suddenly.

The hair on the back of Dave’s neck tried to stand up. “Boss?” He resisted the urge to look around for presences that he wouldn’t be able to see anyway. He also resisted the urge to ask-- _how the hell do you know about seppucrow_?--because the question was stupid. There were a very limited number of people who knew about the Seppucrow Incident, all of them were dead, and Megido was a Spooky Death Priestess. He wanted to ask who told her, but somehow couldn’t make himself.

“If you wanted a sign for Terezi to wear,” Megido explained. “When you’re both ready,” she said suddenly. It almost seemed like a continuation of her comment about the sign, but it wasn’t, somehow. “You aren’t.”

Dave couldn’t help but shiver. “What am I not ready for, boss?” Dave asked. “And how do you decide it?”

“You’re not ready to talk to your dead,” Megido said. “Which is fine! Most people never do. Sometimes there is just too much guilt and pain for there to be communication.” She smiled. “As for how I decide--do you think you’re ready to speak to them?”

For a moment, he wanted to say _yes, hook me up. Let me talk to my Bro._ He wanted to, but it was as if someone had their hand around his throat. He wanted to ask what she meant by “them” but the words just wouldn’t come. His hands were curled up in fists, nails digging into his palms. Megido was giving him the softest, most sympathetic look, and that hurt worse somehow. “I want to,” he said finally.

“When you’re ready come to me, and I’ll help you speak to them,” Megido said. They were both quiet for a few minutes, and then Megido started making with the small talk; movies, books, television programs, questions about his music.  Dave slowly relaxed as they talked.

Serket arrived at the same time as Pyrope, arguing about something as Serket wheeled into the meeting block while Pyrope brought up the rear. Serket’s arm was in a sling, and one of her legs was in a cast. “I knew you were going to give me shit about this,” Serket was saying. “I’m not a stupid little five sweep old kid!”  

“I have a right to ask,” Pyrope replied, and then smacked the back of Serket’s head. Serket jabbed her horns at Pyrope in retaliation. Then she winced and complained that Pyrope was taking unfair advantage.

Dave rose to his feet, feeling awkward and wanting to abscond. Serket tracked his movement immediately. Her blue eyes were sharp and interested in a way that made Dave feel extremely uncomfortable. He focused his gaze somewhere between Serket and Pyrope. _She is not the only mid-blue you’ve met. She doesn’t even look like her._ He could see that Pyrope was trying to give him a reassuring look.

_“Helloooooooo,”_ Serket said in English, drawing out the _o_ sound. _“You must be Dave Strider, John’s friend.”_ She smiled toothily.

If Serket were Hastur, this would be a trap of some kind. _“When we were children, Lady,”_ Dave replied in English. “Is there anything I can get you, Mistress Serket?”

“The stuffed fried dumplings and the beetles look good,” Serket said. “And hand me a bottle of the beer.”

Dave complied with the request, making Vriska a plate as she wheeled a little closer to the table. He also opened the bottle of beer for her. Vriska settled the plate in her lap, and took a drink from the bottle before snagging one of the dumplings.

“You speak English, Vriska?” Pyrope asked. She sat down beside Aradia and made herself a plate.

“John has been teaching me! And has recommended modules,” Vriska said, and popped the dumpling into her mouth. “Most of the humans in Security speak either English or Spanish.”   

“I’ve been learning English. Maybe I’ll ask the Vice Chief about those manuals,” Pyrope said. They launched into an idle conversation about training modules, with Megido throwing in a comment or two.

Dave stayed standing for a moment, uncertain if he should sit back down. Pyrope and Megido weren’t giving him any cues. He thought about absconding, but couldn’t think of a reason to. _Megido said it was a family gathering so--_ he sat on the couch, next to Pyrope and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.Pyrope nudged his arm. When he turned to look at her, she said, “try the stuffed dumpling, Dave,” and popped one of them into his mouth.

Dave felt his face heat up as he chewed and swallowed. “Thanks boss,” he said. Weirdly, despite the embarrassment, he felt a little better. He reached for one of the plates and started filling it for himself.

“Are you going to interrogate us, or drown us in syrup, Terezi?” Serket asked, amused but also impatient. “I have soooooooo much to share!”

“Nothing is stopping you from sharing, Vriska,” Pyrope pointed out.

“All right. Fine.” Serket launched into a story about finding out the name of the ship Captor had been helming. She had found out from Ampora who had apparently been trying to find Captor for years. She had immediately reported to Feferi who had sent Aradia and her auspistice to assist. The _Mala Fortuna_ , aided by two other ships in the Heiress’ fleet had attacked and crippled Captor’s ship the _Executorial Privilege_. Serket had ended up breaking her arm during the battle.

Once they obtained surrender from the captain of the vessel, Serket and the officers from _Sword_ and _Deepwater_ boarded the vessel and began “negotiating” for Captor to be turned over to them. “Everything was going perfectly until we got to the Helmsblock,” Serket said.  

“I told you to wait for me,” Megido said, her tone annoyed yet resigned. It was a-- _you are a moron and yet I still put up with you and I don’t know why_ \--tone.

“Yes, fine, I know,” Serket said, flailing her good arm in a-- _shut up, okay, I know, just shut up about it--_ gesture before wincing when she jarred something. “Any way, it turned out that Sol was lucid and in cahoots with his biotechnist, a human woman named Jade Harley. Sol didn’t remember very much about me and what he did remember was bad enough that Harley took his side and shot me _three times._ I knocked her out and we decided to take her with us, since she’d be a familiar face.”  

Pyrope made an inquiring noise.

“Sollux...doesn’t have many clear memories,” Aradia said. “He recognized me, but it took a while.”

“And how did Harley take to being kidnapped by fearsome privateers?” Pyrope asked.

“She was okay with it, once I was able to explain to her what was going on,” Megido said. “I like her, and she and Sollux seem very fond of each other.” Despite her words, her voice shook a little, and one of her hands clenched. Pyrope put her hand over Megido’s and for a moment, they just sat there, looking at each other.

“Are you two going to need a pile?” Serket asked sweetly. Megido and Pyrope both broke off their eyelock to glare at Serket. “Just wondering!”

The three women continued talking for several hours. Then it was apparently time for Serket to take her pills (except she couldn’t because one of her prescriptions were contraindicated when drinking alcohol). This led to Megido and Pyrope giving her an exasperated lecture while Serket pointed out that if they were so concerned they should not have provided alcohol. “Serket you are a pain in the ass. Aaaaaaaall of the asses. When you’re better I am going to kick your tail,” Pyrope said and leaned down to kiss Serket. It was brief and almost chaste, and for some reason, Serket looked embarrassed.

“Don’t you dare flip on me,” she muttered.

“That is not a thing that is likely to happen, Vriska,” Pyrope said. “Aradia, make sure she gets to her room instead of the Officer’s Mess or something.”

“Of course,” Megido said with a smile. The wheel chair clicked, then turned around and glided toward the door. “Let’s go, Serket.” Serket protested loudly that Megido was “cheating.” Pyrope followed them to the door and spoke to them for a few more minutes before they headed down the corridor.

When they were gone, she headed back to the couch, to sit beside Dave. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pyrope asked.

“It’s in my files, boss,” Dave said, guessing what she was asking about.

“I want you to tell me,” Pyrope said gently. “Not a dry report with euphemistic psychobabble.” She reached up to brush her fingers through his hair. “I know you’ve been uneasy, and I know why. You don’t have to tell me now, just whenever you’re ready.”    




“She doesn’t even look like her,” Dave said, wanting to explain somehow what was going on inside his head. “I don’t know why I’m acting like this. She doesn’t even _look_ like Hastur.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Pyrope said. “Does she? All she has to do is be my kismesis.” She said it very gently but it felt like censure. He started to apologize reflexively, but she shushed him. “Dave, you yourself said you were afraid I thought you were blackflirting at first. And I know that during one of your first rentals your supervisor and an office worker drew you into their competition. I have your medical records and I’ve actually seen what Hastur did to you. The dry and dusty facts will eventually lead those people to justice, but what I can’t fight are your daymares, unless you’re willing to share them.”  Her expression was earnest, tender and did strange, painful things to his heart.

“Boss, what if I fall apart on you?” he asked. “There’s too much going on and I--” he fell silent a moment. “I don’t want to be sidelined because I’m shithive maggots.”

“When you’re ready,” Pyrope repeated. “Until then, I suppose we could attempt to give you immunity to horrible bitchy telepaths.” She smiled. “Let’s have a pile,” Pyrope suggested.

“We had one yesterday, Pyrope,” Dave complained, but he was smiling slightly. “What if the romance fades and you stop feeling sorry for me?”

Pyrope pretended to think about it. “Highly unlikely, Strider,” she said. She stood, and tugged him to his feet. “My block.”

 

“Okay,” Dave said, and let himself be tugged into Pyrope’s respite block.


	23. In which there are ghosts real and metaphorical, and the Neophyte welcomes the newest member of her team.

It did not take her long to realize she was dreaming; it was that kind of dream. She transitioned from the comforting sound of Dave breathing to the blank noise of an air circulation device. She found herself in Dave’s respite block or at least, what was supposed to be Dave’s block, lying on his sleeping platform. The sleeping platform was narrow and smaller than the one she had bought for Dave, and the coverings involved quadrant symbols. The block was cluttered and messy, not at all like the way Dave kept his block, yet everything about it said “Dave.”

The scents in the room involved Dave, honey, something that should not have been left under the sleeping platform and other human scents. She could hear movement elsewhere in the hivesuite, so she stood up and exited the room. The smell of honey—and wax—was stronger, and she followed it into the food preparation block. There was a glass jar on the table filled with mindbees and comb. An adult male human wearing shades and a technician’s uniform was making some kind of brewed drink. “Mindbees are probably one of the more useful invasive species,” the human said. “Less so others.” The human poured two cups, turned, and set one down in front of Terezi. “This is not a memory of anything in particular,” he said. “I just think hive jars are cool.”

“You’re Dave’s lusus,” Terezi said, realizing. She wondered a little vaguely if this meeting was courtesy of Aradia. It would not be the first time she has spoken to a ghost in a dream thanks to her matesprit. “I’m honored to finally meet you.”

Terezi sensed a sort of banked amusement from the ghost. “I’m tempted to make some classical references, but I’m not sure you’d get them.”

“I’ve been informed of a few of them, I think,” Terezi said. “Threats and lectures on correct behavior. I hope I haven’t earned such.”

“You’ve come close a few times,” the ghost said. “There’s also a tradition of interrogations involving intentions, but you’ve usually been pretty clear with them, though I’m not sure it isn’t some kind of Florence Nightingale thing.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Terezi said.

The ghost poured a dark iridescent liquid into a cup and scooted it across the table toward her. “Do you care about him because you’re fixing him, or are you fixing him because you care about him, is the million dollar question here,” the ghost said, and he made the sign of the Sufferer.

It was a dream, so it wasn’t surprising to see the sign. Terezi drank the liquid, which smelled intriguingly earthy and round but tasted spiky and burnt. “That’s a terrible question, and this is a terrible beverage,” she said, setting the cup down so she could return the sign.

“Try it with honey,” the ghost suggested, pointing to the jar. “What’s terrible about it?”

“No thank you! It’s terrible because it presumes that he is the only one who needs fixing, and that it is only his being broken that creates Serendipity between us. I care about Dave because he is Dave.”

The ghost nodded. “That works, I guess.”

Terezi awoke with bits of conversation and repeating lines of music in her head. Dave was not in the pile next to her recuperacoon; he must have gone to his own room or be up already. She wondered if she should attempt to record what she remembered of the dream before she lost it entirely. Terezi slid out of her recuperacoon and into a robe and stepped over to her husktop. Using the voice to text settings, she dictated what she remembered of the dream and saved it. Then she sent a copy to Aradia with the subject line, “Visitation or Sending?”

She went into the meeting block, where she found Dave reading something on his husktop. “Want me to order breakfast, or were you gonna go to one of the mess blocks?” he asked, looking up.

“Have you eaten yet?” Terezi asked.

“Not yet, wasn’t hungry when I got up,” Dave said.

“I’ll probably get something at a mess block,” Terezi said. “I’m going to go see if I can visit Captor.” Even if he didn’t remember her, she still wanted to see him.  

Dave nodded. “Okay, boss.”

Terezi headed down the hall to the nearest lift, which took her to the section of the ship where the ship’s hospice was located. She could hear music, live and not a recording floating down the hall. The singer sounded like a woman, and the song was being sung in English.

 

> _Draw the curtain, put a candle on the sill_
> 
> _Let me take myself away,_
> 
> _For we have years and days and hours left to kill_
> 
> _And the means to make them pay._
> 
> _Ask my brother to tell me when the sun is high,_
> 
> _I had my sister tell him how._
> 
> _They have tied me down and taken out my eyes_
> 
> _So I won't be crying now._
> 
> _La la la la li, la la la la li_
> 
> _So I won't be crying now._
> 
>  

 Terezi followed the singing down the corridor, and peeked into the lounge block that was near the ship’s hospice block. The room was empty except for the singer, a human woman with long dark hair and she was playing a stringed electric instrument that looked a lot like Karkat’s _guitar,_ though much spikier. She stopped singing, and stood. “Was I too loud, Lady?” she asked.

“Not at all,” Terezi said, and stepped into the block. “Terezi Pyrope, Neophyte Legislacerator, Heiress’ legal team.”

The woman gave a slightly lazy tech salute. “Biotechnist Jade Harley, Lady.”   




“Sollux’s moirail,” Terezi said. The Biotechnist smelled flustered.

“I-I wouldn’t say that, Lady,” Harley said. “Taking care of Ep--I mean Sollux--is my job. Was my job.”

“Still your job, I would hope,” Terezi said. “I assume the medical team has been treating you as his legal caretaker?” She set her husktop down and went to one of the vending machines. She got herself a drink, a snack, and then sat down.  

Harley made a surprised sort of sound. “I guess they have. I thought it was just because I’ve worked with him for so long.”

“If it was just that, they would have just lifted his records,” Terezi said. She unwrapped the egg muffin and nibbled on it. “You were brought because it seemed likely that your interactions with Sollux went beyond ‘duty.’”

That seemed to fluster the human woman. “Well yeah, I’ve been working with him for sweeps. You can’t not have a “relationship” with someone you spend most of your time monitoring and patching up in some way! But it’s not like a romance or anything--I mean, we get along pretty well, but maintenance and computer games aren’t exactly candlelight and roses!”  

“You’d be surprised,” Terezi said, smiling slightly. “Shooting someone on your friend’s word they were a danger to him seems pretty romantic to me. Then again it might be bleedover, considering it was my kismesis you shot.”

Harley snorted. “I’m just glad she didn’t decide to have _me_ shot,” she said.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Terezi said. “I was actually planning on seeking you out, Biotechnist,” Terezi said. “I was hoping you would accompany me, when I visited Sollux.”

The human woman frowned. “For the same reason as Lady Serket?” She asked.

Terezi translated that to mean, _are you someone the Helmsman wants to nail to a bulkhead?_ “The docterrorists aren’t quite sure where all the holes in Sollux memory are, so depending, he might only remember me as teal text or a skinny kid in a teal and red FLARPing costume. Your presence would put him at ease.”

“Okay,” the woman said, and smelled a little relieved. She packed up her guitar and preceded Terezi out of the door.

By mutual agreement, when they got to the hospice block, Terezi let Harley take the lead, staying just outside the block. Sollux was watching a movie. Two investerrigators were arguing on the screen. From their stances, they were really getting into their conversation, which was wandering into spade territory as they argued about the evidence and their findings. Terezi recognized the film and was about to ask about it when Harley asked, “Oooh. They’re letting you watch _Sunslammer Down_ , Ep?”  

Sollux didn’t look away from the screen. “Like you didn’t let me watch over your shoulder the first time,” he said softly.

“Yes, well, it was only because I was sure you were mature enough to handle it,” Harley said. “You have a visitor--do you remember a Terezi Pyrope?”    

Sollux was quiet for a moment, and turned to look at Harley, frowning slightly. “I think. FLARPer. She was half of Team Scourge. Her quirk...I don’t remember her quirk.”

This was as good a point to enter as any. “I used all capitals and replaced certain vowels with the numbers of the Blind Prophets,” Terezi said, stepping slowly into the room. She stopped a few feet away from the med station. “I’m glad to see you again, Sollux.”

He turned his face in her direction. He smelled uncertain and maybe a little frustrated. Terezi thought he might be trying to activate sensors he didn’t have access too at the moment. He frowned. “You’re blind.” He said in the tone of someone just remembering a previously forgotten detail. 

“Yes. I’m seeing you figuratively,” Terezi said, smiling a little. She sat down in one of the chairs by the sleeping platform, and they talked for an hour, about nothing especially important. Mostly, they talked about what and whom he remembered, and she answered his questions. The only point where things got serious was when she talked about Eridan’s sentencing. Sollux went completely blank on her, not just gray but completely frozen for several minutes. It was a little terrifying.

“Don’t worry. You didn’t blue screen him,” Harley said. “This happens sometimes when he’s offline and his mouth can’t catch up to his brain.” To Sollux, she said, “ _breathe_ dumbass, and _think_ about breathing. Yes, I know, you’re getting oxygen on a line, no fucks are given, Ep...” Harley talked Sollux through a calming exercise and the freezing gray slowly warmed back up.

“My apologies, Neophyte,” Sollux said, wooden and polite.

“It’s fine,” Terezi said, feeling an odd little wrench in her heart. She stood up. “I should get going.” She wanted to tell he was free to contact her, encourage him to contact Aradia, but the words stuck in her throat. Though it had almost seemed as if Sollux were “normal” except for his lack of memory the way he had frozen up, and the way that he had addressed her throughout the conversation told a different story. The programming might have been modified or removed, but it had left its mark, and it would be a long time before Sollux was better. “Thank you for seeing me,” she said instead. She nodded to both of them, and then headed for the door.

“TZ,” Sollux said suddenly.

Terezi’s eyes stung, but she took a breath and turned. “Yes?”

“I want to see it. The sentencing,” Sollux said. “I want to be there.”

“If your doctor approves,” Terezi said. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

When she returned to the suite, Dave was not there. Instead, there was a note saying that he had gone to the gym with John. Terezi thought briefly about going to the gym herself, but she decided against it. She did not want to seem as if she were hovering or as if she disapproved of John. She decided to check up on her team. After calling her team members--who had nothing to report except that Agneta and Coiver were pitch for each other--she received a confirmation from Feferi about the date and time of the trial. (It would be two days from now.)

Terezi was considering getting something to eat a little more solid than an egg muffin when she received a video call. It was the Director who seemed very upset about something! “Lady Pyrope, what is the meaning of this?!” The Director demanded.

“The meaning of what?” Terezi asked.

“I have apparently been drafted by the Heiress,” the Director said, biting each word off precisely. “And assigned to your legal team.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it,” Terezi said, just as a text window opened on the monitor. “Wait, it looks like I’m getting a message now.” It was a very short message: _Director Marcus is now Investerrigator Marcus, under your authority. His Tyranny approved the license. Expect your department to expand in the next few perigees, Legislacerator._ Feferi logged out before Terezi had time to reply. “Well, I suspected we would end up working together, but not nearly so directly.”

“Not nearly so--” The Director muttered something in English.

“Marcus, please translate that,” Terezi grinned. “Or I could call Dave and have him translate.” Selene smelled like raspberry when she was embarrassed. In the interest of future cooperation, Terezi let her off the jut before she started to respond. “No, it’s fine. My apologies, that wasn’t very professional of me,” Terezi said. “Welcome to the team. After Lord Ampora’s trial we’ll have a party and I’ll introduce you to the others.”

The former Director seemed to gather herself together. She still smelled flustered, but it was covered by a mask of professional calm. “Thank you, Lady Pyrope. I’m sorry for my tone earlier, the--transfer came as a surprise to me.”

“I would imagine it did!” Terezi said. “I don’t know if this will help or not, but as a member of the Heiress legal team, your salary will be at least five times greater than what you made before.”

Marcus smile was darkly amused, “if I live long enough to spend it,” she said.

“True!” Terezi said cheerfully, and signed off.

With the conversation over and done with, she was about to order something to eat, but Dave arrived with cartons of food. Despite a thin veneer of good cheer, Terezi thought she could smell an underlying hint of anger mixed with sadness. She wondered if Dave and John had argued again, wishing Dave hadn’t made her promise to not interfere. “We’re going to have to test you for psychic powers, Dave,” Terezi said, relieving him of a few of the cartons and one of the drinks. “You were able to sense my digestive sac plotting a messy escape from my abdomen.”

“Gross, boss,” Dave said with a tiny smile. “How did your--visit go?” He asked as he set his cartons down long enough to unfold the table and set up the chairs.

“It went okay,” Terezi said. And then, a little more honestly, “he didn’t quite remember me. It was more upsetting than I thought it would be.”

“Maybe he’ll remember more, later,” Dave said as he opened one of the cartons and started to eat. (The contents of his carton were chunks of breaded glazed featherbeast with spicy noodles.) “Even if he doesn’t, at least he’s not where he was, right?”

“True. How was your evening?” Terezi asked as she started eating from her own carton. (She had shrimp curled up with an assortment of vegetables over river grain.)

“A little weird,” Dave said after a long pause. “I asked John if he knew any Signlessists I could talk to. Somehow that translated to ‘bother Chief Vantas.’”

“Well, he is the Sufferer’s Descendant,” Terezi said, smiling at little. “Maybe he thought it would be best if you had the closest thing to a primary source for your research. Why did you want to talk to a Signlessist?”

“Well, Serket’s a Signlessist,” Dave said. “I thought I’d be able to get a better idea of who Serket was, if I knew what she believed in.” He hesitated. “I think I found out more than I bargained for.”

“About Serket?” Terezi asked.

Dave shook his head. “About my brother.”

“Your brother was a Signlessist?” Terezi guessed, remembering the dream she had.

Dave nodded. “It was--kind of a surprise. Bro never really seemed to care about religion. He only went to church or participated in state rituals to fit in, at least, that’s what he’d tell me.” Dave poked at the contents of his carton, his mood slipping toward a combination of anger and sadness. “I don’t know what to think about it. I understand why he never told me, but I hate that it’s just one more thing I didn’t know about him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Draw the Curtain," by Cat's Laughing
> 
>  _Sunslammer Down_ is a movie about a Helmsman who finds a way to deliberately crash himself. It has been referenced by several other writers including VastDerp, coldhope, JumpingJackFlash and probably a few others by now. It's like the _King in Yellow_ in a way.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic has an [**ask blog**](http://contralegemasks.tumblr.com/ask).


	24. In which Dave speaks to a Signlessist and mans a control booth

Dave woke up thinking he had heard someone call his name. He glanced at the recuperacoon, but Pyrope was not peering over the edge at him. (It had not sounded like her voice anyway.) Since it was just an hour before he would have awakened anyway, he got up and went to his own room to dress, then went into the meeting block to do a little more reading of his brother’s work on his husktop.

He thought about his conversation with Lieutenant Braddock the night before. She had sort of obliquely suggested that he talk to a Signlessist if he wanted to learn anything about them. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. He sent a quick message John about it. _do you think you could introduce me to a signlessist call me_

While he was reading, Pyrope got up and took a shower. When she got back they talked, and Pyrope went to visit Captor. Ten minutes later, John called. “Hey Dave, I got your message,” he said. “Introducing you to a Signlessist is definitely something I can do. Can you meet me at the mess hall near the gym?”

Dave nodded. “Yeah.” He really hoped that the Signlessist in question wasn’t Serket, but couldn’t find a polite way to say, _please not Serket she scares the crap out of me_ , and also, _Serket is the reason for my research._ “Be there in a few minutes.” Dave quickly wrote a note for Pyrope then headed out the door. It was early enough that there were not very many other people in the corridor. A few crew members heading to or from their work shifts, but that was it.

When he got to the mess hall, John was waiting for him just outside. “Hey Dave. He’s having breakfast, and the next thing on the schedule is our workout, so he has plenty of time to talk,” John said. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

“Okay. And no, not yet,” Dave said, and followed John into the mess hall. It felt weirdly nostalgic standing in a queue waiting to get breakfast with John, who hadn’t changed all that much. He still told really bad jokes the way he had when he was a kid, still had a lot of the same interests (and insisted on sharing them). It was kind of nice listening to John talk, and occasionally mouthing off without having to worry about anything he said. (But only occasionally, he had spent too long being careful with his words.)

It turned out that the Signlessist John had found was the Security Chief and apparent second coming of Troll Jesus, Karkat Vantas. He was alone at one of the back tables, eating breakfast while reading a digital book. He looked up as John plunked his tray down. “Karkat, Dave has some questions, about Troll Christianity,” John said as he slid into a chair. Dave remained standing.        

“Don’t call it Troll Christianity. Any comparison is pretty much superficial.” Vantas said in the kind of resigned tone that meant he had probably been saying some variation of that for a long time. “Have a seat, Mister Strider,” Karkat said, looking up from his book. “What did you want to know?”

“Just the basics, Chief Vantas,” Dave said. “Mistress Pyrope didn’t go into too much detail about it when briefing the team.”  

“The Signlessists are a proscribed cult, though my collective is pretty open about it. We believe in the equality of the castes, if not an outright abolition of the hemospectrum system,” Karkat said.

“They’re kind of a weird cross between Unitarianism, the Religious Society of Friends, Gnosticism and a few dashes of Buddhism,” John said.

“No it isn’t,” Karkat said. “Well, maybe Unitarian but not whatever else it was you said. Anyway, we’re heretics, and my Ancestor was tortured to death for believing that people should make a greater effort at getting along with each other instead of killing or enslaving each other. Then his executioner fell in pale with his lover and together they both founded a religion. I am kind of over-simplifying though because condensing sweeps upon sweeps of history and philosophical theory into bite-sized chunks is not actually all that easy.”

 “It’s a good thing you like to hear yourself talk,” John said with a grin.

 “Shut up John,” Vantas replied in a resigned tone. “Do you have any specific questions?”  

Dave asked questions about Signlessist practices and rituals. He also asked about how the religion was organized. A lot of the things Vantas talked about sounded oddly familiar to Dave, and not just because Signlessist religious rituals were not very different from the state religion he had learned from Bro and at White Tank. Vantas would quote something that sound like something Bro had said once, or tell a story that would sound a lot like something that Bro had written. It made Dave feel a little uneasy. At one point, Vantas quoted directly from one of Bro’s essays, and Dave knew that he had to ask. “Chief Vantas, I noticed that you quoted from something my brother wrote, may I ask why?”

Vantas gave him a thoughtful look. “How much do you know about your brother’s religious beliefs?” He asked.

Dave shrugged. “I’m not sure he had any, sir. I mean, he went to church occasionally, but he also participated in the state religion.”  

“Your brother was a Signlessist,” Vantas said. “It was something that was suspected for a long time, but nothing he wrote fit in with any lineage, and there were people who felt that it wasn’t likely. That is, until we received primary and secondary confirmations that he was a Signlessist, a Zahhak solitary.”

Vantas went on to explain what the primary and secondary confirmations had been, talked about “Strider’s body of work,” and a lot of other stuff that Dave mostly missed because he was still trying to understand _your brother was a Signlessist._ Vantas eventually seemed to get this, and backed off on the wall of words. “If you’d like to know more, you can message or call me just about any time,” Vantas said. “There are some people from my collective who will want to talk to you about your brother, would you be willing to talk to them?”

“If I have time, and Mistress permits it,” Dave said. It was a fallback, rote response to a question that made something twist in his chest. He wasn’t angry that Dirk had kept something like this from him. He had always known that Dirk had kept a lot of things to himself. Dave had been a kid, and there were things you did not talk to a kid about, and a proscribed, alien religion would definitely be something to keep to yourself. It was just that there was so much Dave didn’t know about Dirk, and so much that he _couldn’t_ remember about his brother that this new discovery was like a load of bricks landing on his head.

On the way back to the suite, Dave picked up some food. Pyrope was extremely enthusiastic about the food, declaring that her digestive sac had been contemplating absconding to hunt on its own. Despite the joking around, he could see that she was upset about her visit with Captor. He tried to be supportive, but was not sure he hit the mark. Pyrope asked him how his evening went, and he explained what he had found out about his brother. Pyrope did not seem too surprised by the revelation. “I’m sure your brother wants a chance to explain himself to you,” she said. “I think it’s likely that he probably attempted to communicate with you in the past.”

She sounded so certain about that, it sent a little chill down his spine. It reminded him of Megido’s offer to connect him to the spirit world. “I thought Megido was the postmort, not you, boss.” He tried to keep the tone light, but he wasn’t able to keep the uneasiness out of his voice.

“Seeing ghosts isn’t limited to just people like Agneta and Aradia, Dave. Sometimes the dead can communicate on their own, without an intermediary,” Pyrope said. “The more powerful ones can do more than communicate, especially if they possessed psychic talent when they were alive.”  She smiled a little. “Changing the subject, it seems that the team has acquired a new member, and we should expect more soon,” she said.

“A new team member?” Dave asked. What he really wanted to ask was about ghosts communicating on their own. She sounded really _certain_ that Bro wanted to talk to him, but hadn’t explained why she thought that.

“Director--excuse me, I mean Investerrigator Marcus,” Pyrope said. “Peixes decided to draft her, and is probably planning on doing the same to others at this conference.”

“Okay,” Dave said. He almost wished he could have seen the look on Marcus face when she got the news. The amusement faded a bit when he realized how extremely awkward it was going to be. “Ah boss--”

“I’m sure she’ll be polite, and if she isn’t, your friends will certainly come to your defense. After the sentencing and the conference, we’ll have a party.”

“In the suite or in the officer’s lounge?” Dave asked. The word she used indicated an acquaintance verging on the pale or even red. Pyrati and Agneta, the two he interacted with the mostly because their work areas were closest to his (and because Pyrati was obnoxiously persistent and social for a troll).  He almost reflexively wanted to deny they were his friends, even if he liked them and they put up with him. He didn’t say anything though. It was just something he’d have to think about, later. 

“Officer’s lounge. I think we’ll also invite her family here for dinner,” Pyrope said.

Dave nodded. “Okay, boss.”

Eridan Ampora’s sentencing took place two days later in one of the largest blocks on the ship, a lecture hall/theater on one of the mid-decks. It was currently set up to resemble a traditional Alternian courtroom. The alcove where the Judicial Drone usually sat was center stage and occupied by a Drone puppet manned by a troll and human crew who had spent the two dress rehearsals doing a Lion Dance during breaks. According to Pyrope, it was a puppet instead of the actual Judicial Drone delegate because His Tyranny was there as an observer, not a participant. Off to the left of the alcove was a black, wooden throne decorated in Tyrian and silver and carved with sea creatures and lineage signs. It was currently empty--the Heiress would be escorted to her throne after the curtains went up.     

“I feel like I’m in a school play,” Dave muttered under his breath. He was in the control booth, where he was going to be running the sound, lights, and the presentation, with Tin Soldier’s help. He ran the final sound checks, watched the various delegates filling up the seats and tried to figure out where the nervous was coming from. “Death of a Douchebag, Pirates and Pissants, Under Mirkwood.” What he was remembering now was White Tank and the way visits from touring high blood nobles were major events, with the students staging performances (always “traditional music and theater”), and having war games to demonstrate their abilities.  

He wondered if being reminded of White Tank was why he was nervous. Or maybe it was because he was up in the control booth where he would not be able to get to Pyrope if something went wrong. He was used to being on the floor of the court trying to keep the sand from the dueling circle out of the equipment. He was used to being able to sweep in with the other members of the team when the accused got out of hand.

Those were all pretty valid reasons for being nervous.

“Everyone’s seated, lights going out,” Tin Soldier said.

Dave nodded, and started up the music. He glanced at the back stage monitors and saw that everyone was in position. “Okay, curtains.” He upped the volume of the music and turned on the big screens while Tin Soldier opened the curtains. The first light was for Pyrope, standing downstage center, bright teal.

Another few beats and he turned on the spots that followed Peixes and her personal retinue to the throne. Karkat was on her left under a red spot, John was on her right in a blue, with Maryam, Leijon, Megido, Nitram and Serket fanned out just behind the throne under their respective colors. They stood so that there were four empty spaces each lit up by a color--mustard, indigo, cobalt blue and violet. The audience had stood the moment Peixes walked out on stage, and they sat back down when she did. (Peixes did not do the thing where you sat only after being invited to do so.)

Dave cut the music and brought the lights on stage up a little.

“Thank you for attending this conference,” Pyrope said. “You are all gathered here to witness, not a trial but a final hearing and a sentencing. The trial itself was conducted a long time ago, in absentia, though no crime was committed.” She spread her arms out, palms up. “I say that no crime was committed because Imperial law is more concerned in controlling those without power than those with it. This is upside down and backward, but it works.” 

(This caused some scattered muttering in the crowd, as well as scattered, bitter laughter.)

Pyrope dropped her arms and paced to stage right then left as she continued speaking. “Nothing the guilty party did was technically illegal; the Highbloods, especially the royal sea dwellers, vote with daggers and poison in the wine. You might be able to argue that theft occurred, but not necessarily murder. There was an attempt at insurrection, which failed; our Heiress proved that she could defend herself from those who might try to control her, though she lost much of her support that day.”

“So! No crime was committed but lives were lost. Lovers were separated by death and distance, and our Heiress was left alone to recoup her losses. Her support scattered, but worked to rebuild and create new connections. Her support remained loyal, and the betrayer was rewarded by his sponsor with betrayal.” Pyrope stopped back at downstage center and grinned like a shark. “This was only unexpected to the betrayer. I’d like to dwell on the exact depths of the guilty party’s stupidity, but Serendipity and my kismesis forbids it.” Pyrope gave it a beat before continuing. “I’ll explain what I meant by that during the course of the hearing.”   

“My initial investigation involved security concerns,” Pyrope continued. “Who had the guilty party been working with? How many enemies had infiltrated the then-nascent Movement? What should we do about them? Those were the primary questions the investigation focused upon. We tightened security and created the by-laws that those of you who are members of the Movement are all quite familiar with--but that was not enough.”

“We held a trial, and you might ask yourself, ‘why hold a trial if no crime had been committed?’” Pyrope asked. “Why hold a trial?” Pyrope asked, and turned to Peixes. Dave adjusted the Heiress’ spot from Tyrian to white, and darkened the stage.

"A lesser crime may be a greater offense, if the offender is of a lower rank than the offended party. But that is not why there was a trial,” Peixes said. “My rank is high enough that the only one who would not be censured in some way for _openly_ attacking me is the Imperial Condescension. We could have built a trial on that, but that is not why there was a trial.” Peixes stood up. “We held a trial because murder is in fact murder and the severity of a crime should not be decided by the rank of the offender in comparison to the rank of the one offended.” Peixes’ words caused a wave of murmurs and conversation in the audience some of it surprised, some of it almost angry. Peixes waited for silence before continuing. “We could have dispensed with the trial entirely, and instead engaged in a cycle of revenge, but we chose not to--and some of you may even know why.”

“Ampora’s betrayal resulted in the deaths of two of our comrades and the kidnapping of one of them. It was the first test of our Movement. The betrayal was a test of our commitment, the trial was a test of our ideology. The purpose of this hearing is to determine Ampora’s sentence, and to finally answer questions each of us have wanted to ask his Highness since the day of his betrayal.”

 


	25. In which the Neophyte Questions, the Heiress Presides, a Prince Receives Judgment, and a Feelings Jam occurs.

Terezi was walking past Vriska to get to her place on the stage when her kismesis caught her by the sleeve. “Break a leg,” Vriska whispered with a grin.    

“Which one of yours would you like broken, Vris?” Terezi whispered, turning to face her kismesis. “I’d think being shot was bad enough.”

Vriska laughed. “It’s something human actors say on the night of a performance for luck,” she said. “I think it’s to confuse evil spirits or something.”

“I’m not the one who needs luck, today,” Terezi said. “I’m still not sure what Peixes has planned for Ampora.” It worried her a little, because she was not sure how Vriska would react if Peixes intended to have Ampora executed, and she said as much. 

“She won’t,” Vriska said. “She doesn’t want him dead. She wouldn’t kill my matesprit unless she absolutely had to.” 

"You sound extremely sure of that, Vris,” Terezi said. “What if she does?” 

“Then he dies,” Vris said bluntly. “I’ll be angry, but I know none of you will let me be stupid about it,” Vriska continued. Terezi thought Vriska was trying hard to _seem_ hard, but her tone was brittle. “If he dies it won’t because of anything Feferi wanted, it will because Eridan decided to be stupid. And if he’s stupid, we don’t need him.” 

Terezi found herself wanting to offer some kind of reassurance, accusations of flipping red be damned, but the stage hands were beckoning her to get to her spot. “Let’s get going,” she said instead, stepped out onto the stage. 

Dave and Tin Soldier were doing an excellent job on the music and lights. Terezi avoided looking up in the direction of the control block, though some part of her wanted to signal her approval in some way. She knew that Dave had been worried about the hearing, and the presentation he had put together, but there was no way to show her approval without seeming foolish. Terezi went through her opening statement, paying close attention to the audience reactions, timing her speech carefully, and then switching off to Peixes. Once Peixes had said her part, John announced that the hearing was in session, and called Kanaya up to be questioned. 

The order was Kanaya, Tavros, Aradia, and Nepeta. Terezi questioned each of them in turn about the night Ampora attempted his insurrection while Dave put the details from the original trial up on the screens. Kanaya’s responses to her questions were calm, Aradia’s were clinical and professional, Tavros’ were sad but collected, but Nepeta was so much on edge she vibrated. Terezi pretended not to notice the brief exchange between John and Nepeta afterward, or the slightly longer exchange between Nepeta and Vriska: Vriska faintly guilty, but also defensive, Nepeta mostly angry and trying not to cry.    

Terezi knew that Ampora would be listening to all of this from the actors waiting block. She imagined him fidgeting and impatient, possibly trying not to take his nerves out on the soldiers who would be escorting him out onto the stage. Once Terezi was finished questioning Nepeta, Dave dimmed the lights, leaving her in a spot. Two stage assistants brought out a plain wooden chair that Dave lit up with another spot. The music he queued up was atmospheric and eerie. Terezi recognized Seadrift’s “Dead Cities Below the Ground (Summoning the Armies of Day).” It was possibly her least favorite jam. He was cutting in bits of dialog from a trilogy of movies that involved a famous insurrection, and military anthems.

Ampora’s escort accompanied him onto the stage. He was wearing high court garb and trying very hard to seem calm, though he had to be on edge. He marched up to the chair and sat down, back straight while the two soldiers stood just behind him, on either side.  The music faded out into the not-really-silence of the theater. 

Terezi let the silence stretch out for several minutes before speaking. She started with the night of the insurrection. She asked him to confirm and clarify all the details. Ampora balked at the line of questioning at first, protesting she was asking him things that were already known. “We may know what you did, Lord Ampora. But the court would like to know what you thought you were doing.” She could hear him shifting uneasily in the chair, and knew that he’d tucked his chin in a defensive gesture. “You compromised the Heiress’ security and you are responsible for the deaths of two of her highblood supporters.” She moved in and took hold of one of Eridan’s horns, twisting until his chin came back up. “You are why Sollux Captor has trouble remembering his friends,” she growled. “What did you think you were doing?”

“I had reason to believe she’d declare right then,” Ampora said. “You think they didn’t know about your stupid Discovery Season? Distributing classified information to the lower orders is a crime even for the Heiress. Glassknife wanted to extract the Heiress from corrupting influences, said her idealism was going to get her killed, and I agreed with him.”

Terezi stepped back, releasing Ampora’s horn. “The classified information in question was accurate accounts of various lowblood uprisings, historical information on previous equality movements and ancient seadweller and landweller ethnography,” she said to the audience. “This information was extremely valuable to our nascent movement, and the Heiress has written several papers on the subjects we studied, written for various levels of clearance.”  She turned back to Ampora. “But your relationship soured with Senator Glassknife, did it not?”

Ampora hesitated a moment before responding. “Yes.”

“Was it because he reneged on his offer to get you into a Naval Officer’s Academy?”

“No,” Ampora said. Oddly enough, that wasn’t quite a lie.

“Please remember that you surrendered and agreed to submit to judgment, Lord Ampora,” Terezi said. “What caused the split between you and your sponsor?”

“It wasn’t because of the Naval Academy,” Ampora said, a growling undertone in his voice. “And if your next question is going to be about Captor, you can go to hell. What caused the split was cleaning up after his bullshit, and getting sick to death of being a desk farmer.”

“What did ‘cleaning up after his bullshit’ entail?” Terezi asked.

“Mostly covering up his financial excesses,” Ampora said. “Sometimes I’d have to set people up, usually for no other reason than him wanting to get rid of creditors or send a ‘warning,’ to some legislacerator.”

Pyrope asked him some more question, getting him to expand on his previous explanations. Then she questioned him about how he ended up in cahoots with Vriska. Vriska had contacted him under and assumed identity via a computer game. After playing with him for about half a sweep, Vriska arranged a personal meeting, revealing her true identity. Vriska eventually swayed him into working with her (though not into becoming a member of the Movement). “What made you decide to work with Serket?” Terezi asked. “Surely the Senator had rivals you could have been in cahoots with.”

Ampora snorted. “I was just a dumb kid he gave a place too. My fortunes were completely tied to his, he made sure of that.”  

“That must have been very frustrating for you,” Terezi said in a completely unsympathetic tone. It earned her a clicking growl.

“It was reason enough to want him dead,” Eridan said. “I’m not gonna say I suddenly realized what a mistake I made, or I suddenly wanted to make up for what happened. I just wanted the connection cut, and Vriska helped me do that in exchange for information.”

“I see,” Terezi said. After asking a few more clarifying questions, mostly about his relationship with Vriska, she called Vriska up to testify. Vriska wheeled up, coming to a stop beside Ampora’s chair. “Vriska Serket, please explain in your own words how you came to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lord Ampora--” Terezi said, launching into her next series of questions. Vriska defended her decision to contact Ampora on religious grounds, stating that if she had been given a second chance, Ampora should be allowed to “redeem” himself as well. (Ampora looked a little disturbed when Vriska identified herself as a Signlessist. Apparently Vriska and Eridan had not had any lively discussions on religion.) Vriska also detailed all the ways his assistance had been instrumental eliminating Glassknife as a threat, and in finding Sollux.

After Vriska’s questioning, Peixes called a fifteen minute recess. Once the curtains had closed, she got up from her throne and stalked over to Ampora. Ampora started to rise, but the two soldiers flanking him gently pushed him back down. “I notice you haven’t tried to capitalize on you relationship with Vriska,” Feferi said. “After all, I’m a surf headed romantic, aren’t I?”

Ampora tilted his head in an aggressive manner. “That’s not something I ever said about you, Heiress,” he said. “I thought you were moving too fast and dealing with dangerous elements that would get you crushed before you had a chance.”

One of the soldiers said something sarcastic in English. _“So you tried to sell her out? Genius.”_

_“Troll logic is not Earth logic,”_ the other human soldier said solemnly.

Peixes glubbed a laugh at the remarks. “Should I care if you thought you were betraying me for my own good?” Peixes asked.

“No,” Ampora said. “I’m not here hoping for leniency or mercy. I’m here because you were right, and I had my head up my nook.”

Peixes said nothing in response to this. Instead, she returned to her chair and spoke quietly with the others. They were quiet enough that Terezi was unable to make out what they were saying beyond a few angry comments from Nepeta. The conversation ended with Peixes asking, “Are you going to need to go back stage with John and Vriska?”

Nepeta’s chin tucked in aggressively. “No. I can do this,” she said, giving Ampora a baleful look. “I’ll abide by your decision.”

“I purromise my decision won’t involve pawdoning him,” Peixes said, and kissed Nepeta on the forehead.

“No fair using my puns, Peixes,” Nepeta said, but she smiled a little, before returning to her place on stage. Everyone else followed suit, then the recess was over, and the curtains parted. Terezi made a short final statement, and then let Peixes take over.

“Eridan Ampora, come forward,” Peixes ordered in a cold voice. Eridan stood up and approached the throne. He started to do a formal bow, but the human soldiers who had followed him caught him by the arms and kept him upright. He started to struggle reflexively but stopped when one of the soldiers pressed a shock stick to his ribs. “You are judged responsible for the deaths of Equius Zahhak and Gamzee Makara, and the kidnapping of Sollux Captor, former Helmsman of the _Executorial Privilege_. Do you accept responsibility for these actions?”

Ampora swallowed, looking extremely uneasy. “I accept responsibility, Heiress.”

“Your actions resulted in the deaths of two of my supporters, and interfered with my plans. Yet other actions you have taken have aided my supporters and me so I will give you a choice of punishments. The first is to give up your sign and rank. The second is to remain a noble.”

An odd sort of tension filled the stage, though the audience seemed to be as confused as Ampora, who was frowning in bafflement. For a few seconds Terezi shared the confusion, but then she realized, _it’s a trap_. She remembered what Vriska had said, _“If he dies it won’t because of anything Feferi wanted, it will because Eridan decided to be stupid. And if he’s stupid, we don’t need him.”_ If Ampora chose wrong, he was going to die. If he was stupid, he was probably going to wish he were dead.

Ampora seemed to get that, after the silence stretched out over the next few minutes. His chin dipped defensively, and his hands clenched. “Heiress, may I ask a question, before I decide?” He asked finally.

“You may.”

“How is keeping my rank a punishment?”

“Because that would be the only thing you would keep,” Peixes said calmly. “Nepeta and Tavros would take everything else.”

“Only Nepeta and Tavros?” Eridan asked.

“Sollux is still alive,” Aradia said with an unsettling smile in her voice.

“We agreed that Nepeta and Tavros’ losses were the most severe,” Kanaya said. “At least within our circle. Other members of the wider Movement who have been harmed because of your actions may have differing opinions.”

Ampora was quiet for a few more minutes, thinking hard, uneasy and conflicted. “I already knew I was walking up to the jut,” he said after a few more moments. “Let go,” he said to the two guards. The soldiers complied, stepping away from the seadweller, but only a couple steps. They were clearly expecting trouble.

Ampora took a couple deep breaths, and then he glared at Peixes. Terezi half expected Ampora to challenge Peixes, but instead he reached up to his symbol pin and tore it off his coat, throwing it at Peixes feet. “Just so it’s clear,” he growled. “I’m not choosing this because I’m hoping for clemency or because I’m afraid of Nitram or Leijon rippin’ my guts out through my ears or somethin’.”

He took another breath. “I renounce my sign and all privileges and responsibilities of my caste, rank and lineage,” he said. Next went every bit of clothing that had his color on it. “I renounce all property and possessions, all chattel and retainers in my service. I renounce all previous ties and alliances.”He bowed formally, and went to his knees. “Though I have no right to ask, permit me to make amends through service.”

“We’ll grant that, though you’ll probably regret it,” Peixes said. “Remove him,” she said to the soldiers, who immediately moved to obey her. Once he’d been removed from the room, Peixes explained the reasoning behind the verdict, and what would have happened if he had chosen incorrectly. She also answered a round of questions before thanking the audience for attending. (She also let them know she would be holding an “open audience” the next evening.)

 

* * *

 

“So, what, he’s a slave now?” Dave asked a few hours later. After the end of the hearing, there had been some clean up, and then they had gone to a cafeteria to pick up something to eat, and returned to the suite. “What’s going to happen to him?”

“Nothing he doesn’t deserve,” Terezi said. “I’m not sure what the Heiress’ plans are. He had some combat training, but he’s not a soldier. Feferi probably won’t take him into direct service or put him under Vriska’s authority. Direct service would be too much of a reward and Vris is too highly ranked and they’re matesprits. She definitely won’t turn him over to Nepeta or Tavros. That would be too stressful for everyone concerned.”

“Is he going to get trained?” Dave asked, sounding a little uneasy about even discussing it. “Even if this is something he volunteered for, wouldn’t she want to ensure his loyalty?” 

“No,” Terezi said. She thought about what to say. The immediate answer that came to mind, “ _we don’t do that,”_ might go wrong in some way. Dave had been conditioned to think of his training as something that had been necessary, something he should feel grateful to have received, even if he felt the opposite. “He’ll just be watched very carefully.” She reached out and put a hand on Dave arm. She sensed his uneasiness fading little by little. “It will be a long time before he wins anyone’s trust.” 

“So, desk farmer again,” Dave said. “Somewhere out of the way, where he can’t get into any trouble.”

“Probably not even a desk job at first,” Terezi said. “Washing dishes, mopping floors.”

Dave laughed at that. “They’d make him do stuff like that?”

“Hm. Movement awareness training usually involves getting assigned extremely heinous chores if you’re high blooded and stupid. Ampora is sweeps overdue.”

“What’s ‘awareness training?’” Dave asked.

“An excuse for lowbloods to inflict unreasonable amounts of torment on their betters,” Terezi said. “I’m quoting Nepeta’s first moirail Equius of course. I never had to do awareness training. I am a prodigy of Progressive egalitarian ideology and was never infracted for being stupid on account of having a natural inborn sense of fairness.”

“If you say so boss,” Dave said in an extremely skeptical tone. “I’m sure you never had to do the dishes or anything like that.”

Terezi laughed. “No, it was usually organizing the media block and gluing books back together.” She smiled at Dave. “I wanted to tell you that you did a really good job today,” she said.

“Thanks boss,” Dave said. “It was mostly Tin Soldier though.”

“I’ll tell him too,” Terezi said. “I know you were worried about doing the presentation.”

“I really didn’t like being up in the control block,” Dave admitted. “It felt weird not being on the stage with you. If something went wrong I wouldn’t have been able to get down there in time.” A smile crept into his voice. “I kept thinking of the performances we put on at White Tank to entertain touring highbloods for some reason. I wanted everything to go perfectly.”

“Should I have wished you to break your legs?” Terezi asked, remembering what Vriska had said before the sentencing. “Is that really something human actors say for luck?”

Dave laughed. “Yeah, it is.” He told her about other human theater traditions he was familiar with, and with a little prompting, told her about a few of the plays and concerts he’d worked on. “One time a blue blood ship captain wandered back stage during a rehearsal to ask a lot of questions about a historical play. John tried to feed him a lot of inaccurate baloney, which annoyed the history buffs in our group,” Dave said at one point. “Everything kind of ground to a halt for a while, because he kept asking questions, and wanted to know The History of Human Theater. Eventually his moirail turned up and hauled him away.” A little later, he talked about a visiting indigo who fell in love with a backdrop painting and insisted on taking it with her when she left.

The conversation wandered after that, heading into the territory of movies and television programs and ended with plans for the party that would introduce the former Director to the rest of the team. “I’ve already made arrangements with the officer’s lounge,” Terezi said. “I also sent messages to the team. And in case it wasn’t obvious, you’re attending the party, not serving it--”

Dave snickered and made a nonsensical comment about not getting to be a _cocktail waitress_. She made him explain “cocktail waitress,” and pretended to think about it. “No, we’d have to impose on Kanaya for the dress, so you can’t be a cocktail waitress. You have to be an attendee.”

“If you say so boss,” Dave said with a smile.

 


	26. In which Dave has a number of interactions, at least one of them supernatural in nature.

Dave was sitting with his back against the bed in his room, taking apart and cleaning his guns. Domingo was watching him in between watching a badly dubbed troll rom-com on the computer monitor. Two moirails attempt to help each other organize and/or fill their quadrants. There was something wrong with the situation, something specifically about Domingo being here, but Dave was not quite sure what it was. “She’s not bad looking, for a troll,” Domingo said after a while. 

Dave glanced up at the screen. The overly enthusiastic green blood moirail of one of the protagonists’ comically inept kismesis was trying to get the protagonist to admit that he was actually flushed for his comically inept kismesis. Meanwhile, the protagonist was still stubbornly refusing to admit to anything except his kismesis’ ineptitude. “I guess so,” Dave said. “The voice actor is kind of annoying though.” 

“I meant the legislacerator,” Domingo said. “She’s not bad looking.” 

“There’s no legislacerator in this movie,” Dave glanced up at Domingo with his best baffled expression. 

“ _Your_ legislacerator.” 

Dave frowned, and wondered how long he could keep the joke going. (And wondering how Domingo knew about Pyrope.) “I wouldn’t be able to retain a legislacerator, Domingo,” he said in a tone of exaggerated patience. “Even if I could somehow scrape together the money. I’m office equipment.”    

Domingo made an exasperated noise. “You are a complete dick, you know that?” he asked. “You know who I mean. The troll who bought you from that asshole Orland.”

“You’re the dick who keeps calling me a troll-fag, bro,” Dave pointed out with a smirk.

“Man, how long are you gonna hold that bullshit against me?” Domingo complained. “It’s not like you never gave me all kinds of shit.”  

“Any shit I give you, you probably deserve, for one reason or another,” Dave shot back. He laughed when Domingo flipped him off, and went back to cleaning his guns then logging them. Domingo drank his beer and occasionally called Dave’s attention to the movie. He didn’t ask any more questions about Pyrope, though Dave had a feeling that question was still in the wings, waiting to be asked.

The question and Domingo knowing about Pyrope disturbed him a little. Domingo shouldn’t be here. Domingo shouldn’t be sitting in his room in Pyrope’s hive watching a movie with him. Domingo shouldn’t drinking a brand of beer you couldn’t get anywhere but Earth. Domingo should not be here. _Domingowaslonggone._

(And it shouldn’t bother him this much because this was a dream. This was a dream and realizing it was a dream should not make him queasy and sick--)

“Dave,” Domingo said, looking a little weird. Concerned and maybe a little worried--and for a moment covered in blood. “Dave it’s okay--” Domingo reached out for him, but Dave flinched away and started falling.

Dave startled awake, disoriented and confused, his pulse thundering in his ears. It hadn’t felt like a dream, it had felt real, even if the situation had been surreal. For some reason he remembered Pyrope talking about the dead contacting people through dreams, but he pushed the thought away. Domingo wasn’t dead. He’d been sold away elsewhere. He ignored the voice that pointed out that Domingo could have died after being sold away elsewhere. A weird dream was not evidence that someone was dead.

After a few minutes of just lying on the bed, Dave slowly sat up, then grabbed his husktop and headed into the meeting block. The only tasks he’d been assigned was “homework” to study for a forensitech license. His inbox had a number of messages. One was a slightly creepy one from Megido, letting him know that Pyrope had received a “visitation” from his brother. She also repeated her offer to help him communicate with “his dead” when he was ready. He decided to answer that message last, just on general principal.

A much less creepy message came to him from Coiver. Apparently, Coiver had asked Pyrope questions about Marcus and she had sent Coiver to _him_ because obviously he was the expert. Most of the questions were things Coiver could have found out on his own, by _asking_ Marcus. Coiver also asked about “the conflict” between Pyrope and Marcus. He replied with, _Sir, I suggest contacting her directly, before the party. A letter of introduction and welcome to the team would probably be appreciated. Included is a list of questions it would probably be rude to ask. The situation you mentioned was the fault of a cultural misunderstanding, now rectified._ In case the rest of the team contacted him about Marcus, he also sent a copy of Coiver’s message and his response to Agneta, Pyrati and Axumen.

Pyrati’s message came with an attachment: a folder of music. _I thought you might like this,_ his e-mail said, followed by, _let me know if you need any help with the forensitech modules._ Dave sent a message back thanking Pyrati for the music and the offer of help.

Dave continued to read through his inbox. He was contemplating exactly how he was going to reply to Megido’s e-mail when a message window popped up.

**[anarchicGallowglass (AG) is trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

AG: Ooooooookay! So far my kismesis, her matesprit, my moirail, my palebro, one leaf of my auspistice and my asshole of a spiritual leader have told me to keep my distance with you! 

**[daveStrider is “AFK!”]**

AG: Which I would be tooooooootally fine with except for the part where as near as I can tell, keeping distance from you also means keeping distance from my kismesis!

**[daveStrider is “AFK!”]**

AG: Which is not something I am prepared to do! So! I would like to suggest that we meet up and talk about me getting to spend time with my kismesis. And also maybe finding a way to assure you that I am not going to screw up my relationships with my kismesis, her matesprit, my moirail, my palebro, my auspistice and my asshole of a spiritual leader by screwing with you to spice up my relationship with Terecita.

**[daveStrider is “AFK!”]**

AG: Look, just contact me! If you want I can have John play chaperone.

**[daveStrider is “AFK!”]**

AG: Bluh. You are not.

**[anarchicGallowglass (AG) is no longer trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

Dave hadn’t been sure how or if he should respond, so he had just let Serket talk. He wasn’t sure how to react to the idea that multiple people, some of whom be barely knew, were apparently trying to protect him. (And not even really from Serket, but from bad memories inspired by cerulean coercive telepaths.) He had a brief impulse to respond to the message, just to prove something, that he didn’t need to be coddled, but the impulse was overruled when he heard Pyrope shuffling around in her respite block.

He waited until Pyrope had gone to the ablution block and had taken a shower before saying anything. “Hey boss?” he asked. “Your kismesis seems to think I’m the person to go to when she wants a conjugal visit with you.”

“What?” Pyrope came over to where he was sitting. He showed her his husktop monitor and the message. She laughed. “I told Vriska she’d have to wait until after the dinner and the party if she wanted to get to know you.” she said. “I guess it was too much to expect her to actually do it.” She sighed. “I don’t mind if you contact her,” she continued. “Don’t think that everyone being so careful of her means she’s a danger to you. It’s just that she’s...Vriska.” Her tone was weirdly fond and exasperated at the same time.

“In a category all by herself,” Dave said. “Defying all description, a meteoric event--which is apparently why you wanted any visits from Serket to take place after the dinner and the party?”

Pyrope looked a little flustered at that, as if he’d caught her at something. (It was not a look he saw very often from her. The last time had been when he and Megido had caught her eavesdropping.) “I wanted you to have some practice talking and socializing before interacting with Vriska,” she said. “I would have explained it, but I guess Vriska beat me to it.” Her tone was a little sour at that.

_Practice socializing._ Instead of acting like a slave and being part of the scenery. He couldn’t argue with Pyrope’s strategy, even though he wanted to. _Stop pushing me. Stop fucking with what I’m used to._ _(No, don’t stop. Push harder.)_ He remembered when Pyrope told him (implied, really) that she had been very carefully adjusting his conditioning. _“I want you to know your own mind,”_ she had said.

He couldn’t argue with that either. What he could argue about was everyone and their brother “protecting” him. “What about everyone else?” Dave asked, indicating the message from Serket. “That’s a long list of people who are apparently watching my back.”

“Heh. I promise I didn’t tell them to sit on Vriska for me,” Pyrope said. “I think you’ll have to yell at your friend John for that.”

“I might,” Dave said. He drafted a brief message to Serket explaining that he had been uncertain if he was permitted to speak to her. (It was not entirely a lie.) He stated that he had obtained Pyrope’s leave and suggested a date a few nights from now to meet, schedules permitting. He also responded to Megido’s e-mail to ask her what this “contacting his dead” would entail. He did not mention the disturbing dream he had had.   

The rest of the evening was spent making arrangements for both the dinner and the party, which would be taking place the next day. They moved the furniture around to make room for the dining set that Pyrope had brought up from Storage and put together a menu. Then Dave ordered the food for the dinner while Pyrope finalized the party preparations.

The Marcuses arrived a half hour before the dinner was scheduled to arrive, with kids in tow. After a few polite greetings were exchanged, everyone sat down. (The Marcuses didn’t seem to know what to make of him not being “on duty,” which was pretty funny.) Pyrope did most of the talking at first, a kind of informal debriefing where she talked about each of the members of her team and their first few cases. “You’ll be working with Coiver Oghami,” Pyrope said. “He is very good at what he does, but sometimes he is a _‘stikk en th’ mud.’”_  

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Mrs. Marcus said, though she sounded pretty uncertain. She glanced at Dave. “Lord Oghami contacted me and we spoke briefly. He mentioned that Mr. Strider had advised him in ‘human manners.’” She paused. “Then he told me that I might have had considerable authority on my home world but I was only one step above Mr. Strider on the team.”

“And what did you say to him?” Pyrope asked.   

“Well, I wasn’t sure of what to say,” Mrs. Marcus said. “So I simply said that I was honored to be appointed to the Heiress’ legal team and left it at that.”

Pyrope smiled. “That works. Of course, that will be literally true once Dave gets his forensitech license.”

Mrs. Marcus looked a little surprised at that. “Is that so?”

“Yes ma’am. I ended up having to help secure crime scenes so the others could gather evidence. That led to me learning how to handle evidence, and the next thing I know, I was taking pictures and creating walk-throughs.”

“It’s your own fault Dave,” Pyrope said. “You kept asking if there was anything else you could do.”

The conversations wandered a bit after that. Most of it was about what Mr. Marcus was going to be doing with himself. Mr. Marcus worked from home so that he could take care of the kids, a writer and freelance journalist. Pyrope seemed to be angling for him to get a job within the Heiress’ Progressive Movement, and he did not seem to be adverse to the idea.   

The food arrived and over dinner, Dave found himself fielding questions from Elizabeth about school feeding and Legislacerators. (The kid was apparently too shy to directly ask Pyrope, and Pyrope clearly had no intention of bailing him out.) Nathan wanted to know if he had killed anyone during a case, and got kicked under the table by Elizabeth. “I’ve had to assist in subduing clients or suspects,” Dave said after both Mr. and Mrs. Marcus called the kids to order. “Sometimes permanently, but not very often.”   

After dinner, there was some more talk, while the kids were distracted with a movie. There was a slightly creepy moment when the kid queued up the same romantic comedy Dave remembered from his dream. Pyrope asked Mrs. Marcus questions about her previous duties and cases, occasionally going into territory that definitely made the former Director extremely uncomfortable. Dave found himself interjecting from time to time, clarifying something or getting Pyrope to back off. After a few rounds of this, he was pretty sure Pyrope was doing it on purpose.

Once the Marcuses had gone home, he and Pyrope cleaned up and spent some time talking about the dinner and the party tomorrow. He almost told her about the dream he’d had, but never got around to it. When he finally went to his respite block and fell asleep his dreams were uneasy, not quite daymares where he’d twitch awake, not sure whether he was actually awake or still asleep. A few times, he thought he’d heard someone call his name, but no one was there.

The party was a little easier in some ways than the dinner had been. He could be more of a wall flower, while still socializing. Somehow, he ended up in a conversation with Mr. Marcus and Pyrati about music. “It’s just a hobby,” Dave had said after Pyrati revealed that Dave had DJed and also composed. “The DJing was something I was allowed to do by my previous owner between assignments.”

The offhand comment seemed to unnerve Mr. Marcus a little, though he covered it. He asked questions about the music Dave had played during the sentencing. This led to a conversation about the way the sentencing had been “performed,” and that in turn led to a conversation about the sentence itself. “You mentioned that Lady Pyrope told you that it wasn’t likely that the Heiress would take Ampora into direct service,” Mr. Marcus said at one point. “Could you explain what you mean by that?”  

“Depending on the circumstances, a slave can use their master’s authority and even have their technical rank,” Dave said. “That’s in some extremely specific cases though. The Heiress taking him into direct service would seem too much like a reward, even if she’s punishing him. The same would go if he was assigned to any high caste troll.”

“I remember that you were using Lady Pyrope’s authority as a Legislacerator in the ship infirmary,” Mr. Marcus said. “I don’t believe I’ve had the opportunity to really thank you for that.”

“Just doing my job, sir,” Dave said. “I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

The conversation wandered elsewhere after that. Eventually the party wound down, Pyrope telling everyone that there would be a meeting in a few nights. “The Heiress indicates that the team is probably going to be a full cohort soon. We’re going to be going over the profiles of possible candidates before the Heiress can drop any more draftees into our laps.” A pause. “Not that she might not anyway. Marcus, I’ll be sending you the invitation to the team’s forum and all the necessary contact information, and the log in information for the team’s drop boxes.”

“Having Marcus on our team is going to be interesting,” Pyrope said once they had returned to the suite. “How were you getting along with her matesprit?”

“Okay I guess. Was there a problem with Mrs. Marcus?” Dave asked.

“She is not used to the kind of team I have, and she still has some slight issues about you,” Pyrope said. “I think she is trying to be careful about offending anyone, which is paradoxically offensive. I think I managed to smooth things over with her and Coiver though, so that is something.”

“What was his deal, boss?” Dave asked. He sat down on the couch and toed off his shoes.

“Typical territorial crap,” Pyrope said. “What did you and Mr. Marcus talk about?”

“Music, mostly. A little bit about Ampora’s sentencing.” Dave paused. “What kind of problem does Mrs. Marcus have about me?”

Pyrope looked a little uncomfortable--and annoyed. “Mostly about my owning you. Or something. She is trying very hard not to be offensive which is tooth grinding.”  

Dave thought about it. “Well, did you let her in on your ‘make Dave socialize,’ agenda? Maybe she just doesn’t get this thing we have going.” Relationship? Arrangement? He didn’t know what to call it, still. “Maybe you’re still feeling the effects from that ‘ashen pile’ thing you did with her.” He didn’t bother adding that Marcus might just be naturally suspicious of anything that even remotely resembled the “there is nothing wrong or messed up here, just workers serving the Empire, nothing to see move along,” pro-slavery propaganterrorism.

Pyrope smiled wryly. “You’re probably right, Dave,” she said. After some more talk, Pyrope wandered off to her respite block. Dave stayed up a while longer and watched a couple movies. He eventually fell asleep on the couch and had restless busy dreams about the party.

The next few nights were busy. The Heiress had announced her intent to Challenge, and the delegates were leaving for their respective planets (to confer with their superiors) or joining the Progressive Movement and the Heiress’ Fleet. Pyrope’s inbox was suddenly flooded with resumes from delegates and Progressive Movement members who wanted to join the legal team. Pyrope gave him a checklist of keywords and desired fields of experience and had him play Resource Department, forwarding to her all the resumes that matched her criteria. (“Send everything else to Tavros and Kanaya. They’ll know who to send them too.”)

On the second day of going through the resumes, he received a reply to the message he had sent Serket.

_If you’re not busy we could meet in the officer’s lounge at 1300. John will be there. I mostly just want to make it clear that while everything you might have heard about me is completely true, I am not nearly as stupid as I was when I was a kid. I know that’s not much of a reassurance, but you have no reason to trust me, especially if Terecita told you half the things I did when I was a kid._

_Vriska Serket, Captain of The *Fortuna_

Dave thought about the message for a while before responding.

_I think I’ll be able to go, Mistress Serket. I do understand that you and my Mistress have a long and complicated history together. I trust her judgment and my friend John’s. If I am uneasy around you, it is mostly because of past experiences with coercive telepaths._

_Dave Strider, administrative asset to Neophyte Pyrope, Legislacerator_


	27. In which Vriska attempts to be helpful, Selene attempts to swallow her foot and Terezi attempts to be conciliatory

**[anarchicGallowglass (AG) is trolling gallisCalcographer (GC)!]**

AG: I haven’t seen this handle in a while.

GC: You were my public contact. So you got my professional handle. I was only using this account for inside contacts.   

AG: Are you talking to Peixes now? Or Vantas?

GC: Kanaya actually. Should I be talking to Vantas or Peixes?

AG: No! I was just asking. You might want to come to the infirmary though. You were not overreacting by the way.

GC: Vriska. What did you do to my moirail?

AG: Nothing bad! I tried to give him a scan for completely legitimate securipsychic reasons and he panicked and tried to throw me out so I knocked him out. 

GC: I am going to kill you in the unsexiest way possible.

**[gallisCalcographer (GC) is now offline!]**

Terezi quickly signed off with Kanaya (after a brief, profanity filled explanation) and ran all the way to infirmary, dodging the occasional passerby as she raced down the corridor and into the nearest rectilinear multidirectional transportation cubical. When she got to the front desk of the infirmary section, she found Vriska waiting for her. Vriska started to speak, but Terezi ran right over her words, snarling, “You know, I told him that you weren’t a danger to him. What a great way to prove me wrong!”

“I was _scanning_ him, not _controlling_ him,” Vriska said defensively. “It was just a quick survey of his base conditioning and his mental architecture. I didn’t think--” 

“That’s the problem, Serket, _you don’t think_. You don’t _think at all,_ you get wild hairs and get people put in the goddamn infirmary!”

“Because I made him take a nap after he went over the table at me!” Vriska shouted back.

“Ladies,” one of the receptionists behind the desk said sternly. “Please settle your differences calmly. Out in the corridor if necessary.”

Terezi took a deep breath. “He attacked you?” She asked in as calm and even a tone as she could manage.

Vriska huffed. “ _Tried_ to,” she said irritably. “He sensed me in his head and had a bad reaction. I knew he was _resistant_ but there’s nothing about him being _sensitive_ in his file.”   

“If you’ve had extensive experience with telepaths, it is not that hard to tell when one is rummaging through your thinkpan,” Terezi said patiently.

“Not if it’s me,” Vriska said.

“Yes even if it’s you,” Terezi said. “Why did you even try something like that without asking--never mind, I already know. He would have said he needed my permission. Goddammit Vriska!” 

“Do you at least want to know what I found?” Vriska asked.

“Right now I want to see Dave,” Terezi said. “You can tell _both of us_ what you found, after you apologize for scanning him without permission.”

“Okay, fine,” Vriska grumbled.

They met the medicutioner who was waiting for them just outside the door. He gave a general report of Dave’s condition that was peppered with some stern criticisms directed at non-medical personnel who thought they were psycherugeons. (Vriska did not appreciate the lecture but did not protest it or offer any excuses.) “He’s experiencing some psychic trauma and an associated migraine, I do not advise any further scans without a trained professional on hand,” the medicutioner said giving Vriska one final frown. “You can pick up the prescription at the pharmacy counter. I’ll have an aid bring a four-wheeled device for him.”

Terezi thanked the medicutioner and went into the room. Dave was still asleep and John was sitting by his bed side. His hand had been over Dave’s when they walked in. He snatched it away as if Dave’s hand had been on fire when he saw them come in. (Under other circumstances, she might have teased him about it.) “Neophyte, I’m sorry,” John began, rising to his feet. “I didn’t know--“

“It’s okay,” Terezi said. “No one ever knows what stupid thing Vriska is going to do.”

“Yes I am a terrible horrible person and should be ashamed of myself,” Vriska said in an annoyed undertone.

“Shoosh,” Terezi and John said simultaneously, provoking a sudden laugh from them both.

Dave stirred, mumbling something in a combination of Alternian and English. Terezi immediately sat down in the chair recently vacated by John. She reached out to stroke his hair, and he stirred a little more, one hand rising clumsily to catch hers as his eyes opened. “Boss?”

“How do you feel?”  

“Head hurts, tired,” he said. He drew her hand down to kiss it, not noticing they weren’t alone in the room.  “Your kismesis--” He trailed off as he took notice of John and Vriska. He smelled like dismay and cherries, but he didn’t let go of her hand. “She tried to get into my head.” 

“Vriska is going to apologize for trying to get into your head,” Terezi said, turning to face Vriska.

“I’m sorry for scanning you without permission,” Vriska said with a huff. “It wasn’t my intent to cause you any harm. I only wanted to make sure you weren’t a security risk.”

“I guess I have to take your word for that, Mistress Serket,” Dave said. “Any concerns you have should be addressed to my Mistress.” His tone was perfectly polite and completely rote, but there was a hidden edge beneath the words. He was angry, frightened, and his hand was trembling slightly.

Six sweeps Vriska would have gotten on her high hoofbeast because he had not actually accepted her apology. Adult Vriska sighed. “Yeah, I should have, but I knew she’d back you up if you said no. I’d like to tell you and Terezi what I was able to find, and make a recommendation.”

“I’ll wait outside,” John said, and absconded from the room.

Dave did not respond to Vriska at first. He just smelled sick and increasingly anxious, refusing to even look at Vriska. “Any concerns you have should be addressed to my Mistress,” he said again in a low voice.

“Okay,” Vriska said. “I did a scan of your mental architecture and base conditioning,” she said, stubbornly addressing Dave instead of directing her words to Terezi. “This is something that would have had to happen anyway because sometimes there are some nasty routines and nastier bugs that can come up, especially if there’s been abuse or a ‘hacking’ attempt. And I knew you had had both happen.”

“Oh well it isn’t as if a slave’s documentation was private or anything,” Terezi said, then felt immediately terrible when Dave’s anxiety spiked.

Vriska clicked irritably at the interruption. “Any way it looks like someone tried to do a patch on some psychic damage, and then created a bunch of subroutines. I didn’t get a good look at them because you noticed I was in your head and I had to make you take a nap.” Vriska paused again. “My recommendation is that you see a psycherugeon as soon as possible.”   

Dave didn’t say anything in response. Not even a rote assurance that he would do what was expected of him. It was more than a little worrying. He was blank and defeated in a way Terezi hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Behavior mod shame-loop,” Vriska commented. “Probably connected to a past trauma. I’ll go see if the four wheeled device for Dave has arrived.” She left the room.

Once Serket was gone, Dave released her hand and turned his face away from her. He murmured something in English that Terezi was pretty sure she didn’t want him to translate for her. “It’s going to be okay Dave,” Terezi said, putting her hand on his shoulder.  

“I don’t like falling apart like this,” Dave said, his tone almost conversational. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a trauma induced migraine because my kismesis is a nosy twit,” Terezi said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“I don’t want anyone in my head,” Dave said.

“Still not negotiable, Dave,” Terezi said. “But we can wait until you’re feeling better.”

Dave’s anger--and fear--spiked. “Did you tell her to do that to me, mistress?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t. Vriska came up with that on her own,” Terezi said. She tried not to react at the return to “mistress,” instead of boss. “You haven’t done anything wrong. This is something that can be fixed. Now let’s get your shades on.”

With John’s help, she bundled Dave into the four wheeled device and went back to their suite. John apologized again, and tried to reassure Dave. Dave said something briefly in English that seemed to reassure John though not by very much. John and Vriska absconded, John with his hand on Vriska’s arm, talking in a low angry tone and Vriska protesting but not trying to break John’s hold.

When they got to the suite, Terezi settled Dave on the couch and gave him his prescription. “Just rest for a while, we can talk when you feel better.”

“Okay,” Dave said and took the pills. He was asleep again within minutes of taking them.      

Over the next few nights, Terezi found that she suddenly had a mid-weight cruiser and a miniature fleet of refitted hunter-class pinnaces under her command. (One of the first things she did on assuming command of the vessels was speaking to the Helmsmen, their attendants and the crew.) She also had what seemed like a million resumes to go through in order to fill them with legislacerators and their forensic teams.

Dave tried to help but he was groggy from the prescription and the psychic trauma for a night and a half after the incident with Vriska. Though he complained when she insisted he rest, he seemed to appreciate the extra attention despite himself. They jammed for a while about Vriska, the incident and a very little about what Dave remembered about Hipidi Hastur. “She kept trying to get me to attack her--I mean really attack her,” Dave said at one point. “She’d discipline me either way, whether I did it or not. He’d try to make her stop but he was too low.”

“He?” Terezi asked.

“It’s in my file, boss,” Dave said. “Everything is in my file.”

That was his usual response when he didn’t want to talk about something, or when he couldn’t remember. Terezi let it lie. “I feel a little guilty about pushing you,” she admitted. “Since what I was doing was pretty close to what Hastur was.”

“Only a little,” Dave grumbled. “You kicked my ass so hard your boot prints left a permanent tattoo.” Despite the complaint, he was curled up next to her on the couch, his head resting in her lap.

“Your scrawny ass is untattooed,” Terezi said, ruffling Dave’s hair. “By my boots or anything else.”

“Property of Terezi Pyrope, Imperial Legislacerator,” Dave said. _“Also fuck you I have a great ass.”_

 “Anecdotal evidence suggests you are sassing me when you start using English, Dave.” It also meant that he wanted to find something else to talk about. Terezi was happy to oblige him, for now anyway.

“Anecdotal evidence or eyewitness accounts are the least valuable forms of evidence because a witness may be untruthful, mistaken or misled by what he or she perceived,” Dave said.  

“True. Which is why I am currently learning English! You will have to find another language to sass me in, Dave, or start sassing me in plain Alternian.”

It turned out that Marcus’ greater level of experience with running a large law enforcement organization made her an invaluable source of information. (Marcus had protested that most of her experience had been of planet bound operations, but Terezi thought this was false humility.) Marcus settled in, though it was clear that she was uneasy about something. At first Terezi assumed it was only discomfort at having been conscripted by the Heiress, or something to do with Coiver, Agneta or possibly Dave. (Coiver because he was offended by what he knew of Marcus’ opinions about psychics, Agneta because she was psychic and Dave for whatever reason he made Marcus uneasy.) It gradually became clear that it might be more than that.

“Boss, she’s got dependents and probably no place safe to send them,” Dave said when she asked him. “That would make any custodian more than a little uneasy.”

“You’re right,” Terezi said. How did you accustom a fully sentient lusus with two charges to a new environment? And what did you do about their charges? Terezi entertained the brief whimsical notion of creating a nest made from the belongings of her offspring in the team’s temporary office block on board the ship. “What do you recommend?”      

Dave shrugged. “See if she’s got a bug out plan, and work with her on it. She probably worried about what might happen if she or her husband gets killed. She might also be worried about schoolfeeding and well, lack of social contact with kids their own age.” 

“Some of the vassal world delegates who are directly joining the Fleet also brought their offspring or other dependents,” Terezi said. “But you mean ‘human kids.’”

“Yeah. There probably aren’t many human kids with the Fleet.”

“We’ll see what we can do to accommodate her then,” Terezi said. The conversation shifted to the potential additions to the team, and preparing to set up living and office quarters on the cruiser. The next few hours were spent reviewing resumes while Dave set up interviews for applicants. While Dave was busy with that, she ordered lunch and then called Marcus, inviting her to join them.

“Boss, did you want me to pick up the order?” Dave asked between calls.

“No, I can do it. You can set up the table and chairs,” Terezi said.

“Okay.”  

By the time Terezi came back from the cafeteria with her lunch orders Marcus had arrived and was engaged in what looked to be a painfully awkward conversation with Dave. When Terezi entered, Dave immediately stood up, relieved her of the bags and set them on the table. “Boss did you make sure the refried bugs were in a separate bag?”

“Dave they are refried, they are hardly going to migrate into your spicy noodles and aquatic bugs.”

“Shrimp,” Dave said to Marcus. “And the refried bugs are not edible to humans.”

“They are in their own container. There were no escapees,” Terezi said. “Marcus, I wasn’t sure what you might like so I got you spicy noodles in a three item combo.”

“It’s weird fusion cuisine day in the cafeteria we usually order from,” Dave said, his tone almost apologetic. He dug out his lunch and handed the three item combo to Marcus.

“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Marcus said and sat down at the table.

Terezi waited until everyone had started eating before bringing up the subject of Marcus’ dependents. “I appreciate the skill sets and knowledge you’ve brought to the team, investerrigator,” Terezi said. “You’ve settled in remarkably well.”

Marcus, caught with a forkful of food headed toward her mouth paused, and set the fork back down. “Thank you, Lady Pyrope,” she said. “I’m glad to have been of assistance.” Her general demeanor was politely curious and indicated a silent, _where is this going?_

“It was brought to my attention that you might be worried about the general welfare of your dependents,” Terezi said.

This seemed to upset Marcus. She flared, somewhere between fear and anger. It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts. “Yes, I’m worried. The Heiress is going to challenge the Empress and we’re in the middle of a fleet preparing to engage in rebellion against the Empire.”

Terezi nodded. “That’s understandable. I can’t assure you that your dependents will be perfectly safe, but I can promise you that any operation of this cohort will take into consideration the dependents of its members.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” Marcus said. “But I’m not sure you are able to understand a mother’s concerns for her children. I don’t want my children to be in the middle of a war.”  

Despite a flash of irritation, Terezi attempted to be conciliatory. “I understand you are a lusus concerned for her charges,” she began, but Dave ran right over her words, his voice sharp and angry.

“You think they wouldn’t be in the middle of a war anyway?” he asked.

“They’d be safer on Earth,” Marcus snapped.

“They’d be just as alone and in danger on Earth as in space,” Dave said.

“They have family on Earth,” Marcus said. “If anything happened to me or Bill they would be taken care of.”  

“There is no way you can guarantee that,” Dave said. “They could get grabbed by insurgents, they could get grabbed by the Empire, they could get killed or worse by some random asshole. You can’t guarantee their safety _anywhere_.”

“So I should be happy they’re at least nearby?” Marcus asked angrily.

Dave snarled something back in English that resulted in a brief exchange that ended with Dave stalking into his room. With Dave gone, Marcus’ beet-flavored anger turned into a pinkish embarrassment. Terezi blanked her face and said absolutely nothing as Marcus attempted to apologize. When Marcus finally fell into an uncomfortable silence Terezi said, “I suppose I should be glad you’re not treading on eggshells with him now. Too bad you completely missed the tripwire.”

“I’m sorry,” Marcus began, but Terezi interrupted.

“I’m not the one you should apologize too, but I’ll convey your regret when Dave is feeling better. I also wish you’d be sorry over implying that I _can’t comprehend_ how worried you are, when I invited you here for the specific purpose of helping you make arrangements.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure how you could; trolls don’t raise their own offspring,” Marcus said stiffly

“In my case,” Terezi said evenly, “It’s because I had to _raise my lusus_. In the case of others, those of us who haven’t had their empathy nubs burnt out can at least approximate the concept _since we_ _have_ _the ability to care about our loved ones’ general welfare_.”  

Marcus floundered incoherently for a few seconds. What she settled on finally was, “you had to raise your lusus?”

“She didn’t hatch until I was about six. She was able to protect me successfully because her species are extremely powerful telepaths. When she finally hatched I had to take care of her because she was still a baby,” Terezi said. “I am very proud of her, and miss her a great deal, but she was too big to take off world. She’ll be a wonderful lusus to some other teal wiggler.”

“I see,” Marcus said, sounding embarrassed, and a little understanding. “I apologize for my earlier remarks.”

“It’s fine,” Terezi said. “I do understand that this is something you’re worried about. I want to work with you to ensure your family is as safe as possible.”


	28. In which Dave talks to Marcus and various appointments are made or kept

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains rape.

_"Yes, you should be fucking ecstatic you know where the hell they are!”_

_“You have no right to take that tone with me!”_

_“You have no right to say shit! She’s trying to help and you tell her she couldn’t possibly understand how you feel? Fuck you and your fucking CeeCee bullshit attitude!”_

The anger had snuck up on him. A fierce and ugly burst that should have got him in trouble but didn’t. Pyrope wasn’t saying anything and Marcus was just white noise profanity. Dave absconded for his respite block, rage crashing sick and nauseating in the pit of his stomach when he got there, leaving him cold and shaky. The door slid shut behind him. One of the inconveniences of a space ship is that you couldn’t slam doors.

He slumped onto his bed and tried to ignore the uneasiness he felt at the lack of immediate reprisal. (Mistress hadn’t even sent him to his room, he had just gone.) Some part of him was trying to convince him that the longer you had to wait, the worse the discipline would be. That he was screwing up again and something terrible was going to happen because he had forgotten his place. _Behavior mod shame-loop,_ Serket’s voice seemed to say. _Probably connected to a past trauma._ “Fuck you in the ear, Serket,” Dave muttered.

He hadn’t even been really yelling at Marcus because of the way she’s spoken to Pyrope. It had just been everything else. Just Marcus having come from a CeeCee and acting as if anyone who’d grown up outside one was contaminated, acting as if _he_ were contaminated.

Dave listened to Pyrope talking to Marcus. Pyrope got a little loud chewing Marcus out and Dave smiled. Then their voices got quieter as the conversation continued. There was absolutely no way he was going back into the meeting block, so he put on a headset and played music while doing some homework. It was not quite as distracting as he hoped it would be. He found he was still peripherally aware of the conversation in the next room and he knew the exact moment when Marcus left. He thought about waiting Pyrope out but realized immediately that he wasn’t going to be able to do that. He saved his work and headed back out into the meeting block.

Pyrope was cleaning up the meeting block. “Boss, I can do that,” he offered.

“No, I got it,” Pyrope said. “Marcus apologizes for upsetting you.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled like that, boss,” Dave said, feeling guilty.

“You may not have noticed, but the members of my forensic team _yell_ at each other,” Pyrope said. “And occasionally I have had to enforce boundaries with my cane swords. Your outburst did not exceed boundaries.”   

Dave nodded, smiling a little at Pyrope’s tone of voice. It fell somewhere between sarcastic and prim. “I’ll apologize to investerrigator Marcus,” he said.

“Later,” Pyrope said. “Have a seat, you can tell me what you both said.”

Dave sat down. “I told her she should be happy she at least knew where her dependents were. She told me I didn’t have any right to speak to her like that. Then I yelled at her for being rude to you.”

_“CeeCee bullshit is what?”_ Terezi asked in English.

_“CeeCee is Closed Communities, gated communities,”_ Dave said. “An enclave. That’s where Marcus is from. Better schoolfeeding, more access to resources, less crime. I’m _not her kind of people_.” 

Pyrope finished putting the table up, and took a seat next to Dave. “A considerable difference in class--as much difference as between rust and cerulean? No, at least cobalt,” she said thoughtfully. “She reminds me of some cobalt-blues I’ve known. Very solid individuals! With very thick skulls!”

“About that much difference, yeah,” Dave said. He snickered at her last comments. “What kind of arrangements did you make with investerrigator Marcus?” he asked.

Pyrope gave him a general overview of what was going to happen with Marcus’ dependents. Mr. Marcus was apparently being approached by the Movement’s reporgandists. If he accepted the position he’d still be dangerously close to the front lines, and probably a target, but he and the kids would be marginally safer. “Marcus’ offspring and Marcus’ _husband_ will need at least basic survival training,” Pyrope said. “I’ve recommended that Marcus make arrangements, and I’d like you to assist when you have time.”  

“Would Marcus be okay with that, boss? She doesn’t seem to like me around her kids.”

“She will have to get used to it, and used to you. Even if ‘awareness training,’ is involved,” Pyrope said firmly. “When you apologize to her, you can offer to help.”

“Okay, boss.”

They talked some more, mostly about his homework and some suggested reading. The conversation drifted for a while, and somehow ended up edging around the issue with Vriska’s suggestion that he see a psycherugeon. It was territory Dave did not want to visit, but Pyrope was pretty determined. She listened to his arguments, but it was pretty clear she was not going to agree with any of them. She matched each one of his arguments with one of her own. The general theme was, _there is a limit of what I can do to help you, so we are going to have someone who was actually trained in the field to help you._ Most of his arguments were, _nothing has gone really wrong yet_ , and, _how am I going to do my job if someone is digging around in my head?_ (And he knew it, knew Pyrope was right, which sucked.)

“I’ve arranged an appointment for you with one of the human psychs and a psycherugeon tomorrow,” Pyrope said finally. “This will just be to meet with them.”

“Just meeting them?” Dave asked, hating how uneasy and childish he sounded.

“Nothing more invasive than a lot of uncomfortable questions,” Pyrope said. She smiled her pixie-shark grin. “Nothing you’re not used to, right?”

“I’m used to _you,_ ” Dave said. “I don’t want anyone else messing with me.”

“I know,” Pyrope said. “But since I can’t _retroactively_ prevent anyone from having ever messed with you, this is what we’re going to have to do.”

After some more talking, Dave retreated to his room. He worked on his homework while thinking about what to say to Marcus. Thought about the awkward attempt at small talk before Pyrope came back with the food. Small talk hell was a rocky shoreline littered with the corpses of conversations. He couldn’t talk about the weather in space and there were few points of reference in common between himself and Marcus. The closest he’d gotten had been talking about schoolfeeding though human college on a Criminal Justice track was about as alien to his experience as Alternian military schoolfeeding was to Marcus’.

He called Marcus’ suite and after a brief exchange with her husband, Marcus made an appearance. _“Mrs. Marcus,”_ Dave said in English. _“I’d like to apologize for earlier today. I was extremely unprofessional.”_  

_“I’d like to apologize as well,”_ Marcus said. _“I wasn’t exactly professional either.”_

The apology was a little surprising. Somehow, he hadn’t expected one. _“Pyrope’s team can get all kinds of unprofessional,”_ Dave said. _“So no harm done.”_

_“Still, I’ve been on the wrong foot with you from the beginning,”_ Marcus said. _“And I’m sorry for that. I’d like to be able to get along with you as a colleague, if not a friend.”_  

_“Likewise, ma’am,”_ Dave said. _“I don’t hold anything you’ve said against you._ _You didn’t know.”_

Marcus frowned at him, looking as if she were wondering if she should be offended. Finally, she said, _“I should have known.”_ She smiled slightly. _“Lady Pyrope said that I have a tendency to tip toe around you, and that’s true. I was too busy being upset over your situation in abstract to pay attention to you as an individual--I realized that during my conversation with her.”_

The rote line of _I am content to serve_ sprang immediately to mind, but Dave managed not to say it. _“That was understood, ma’am,”_ he said instead. And because it seemed everyone was being honest and conciliatory, _“I’m still kind of pissed about the implication of inappropriate behavior, though.”_   

Marcus looked a little upset at that. _“I really did not approve of letting my children ask you questions. I overreacted when I overheard you talking to my daughter, about your experiences, however careful you were about it.”_

_“I wasn’t too bothered about answering questions,”_ Dave said. _“Not too happy about it, but not bothered by it. That’s what I was there for, to answer questions and be a line of communication between your people and my Mistress and her team.”_ He used the Alternian word for “mistress” because the English word didn’t mean the same thing. (And wasn’t that going to be an awkward conversation when Pyrope found out about it.)

_“Personal questions that have nothing to do with the case?”_ Marcus asked dryly.

Dave shrugged. _“I wasn’t just talking about the case with your security detail,”_ he pointed out. _“Our conversations got a little personal, but it didn’t bother me.”_

_“I see,”_ Marcus said. _“I should have been talking to you, instead of at you, in other words.”_

He hadn’t meant it to be a dig in that direction, but if she wanted to take it that way, he couldn’t object to it. _“Possibly,”_ he said _. “It might have kept things going a little more smoothly between yourself and_ _Mistress.”_

_“Or maybe not,”_ Marcus said. _“Lady Pyrope was not a happy woman when she came to visit with Mr. Vantas.”_

Dave really wished he could have been a fly on the wall for that conversation. “ _My Mistress_ _is willing to let bygones be bygones in interest of team cohesion,”_ Dave said. “ _Mistress_ _suggests that I could help your husband and children with survival and self-defense lessons.”_

Marcus appeared to think about it for about a minute. _“That would be fine, as long as it didn’t interfere with your duties.”_

_“It shouldn’t, ma’am,”_ Dave said. The conversation petered out after that, and Dave ended the call. After doing some more homework, and skimming through some forums he’d been talked into joining by TS, he went to see if Pyrope needed him for anything. He told her about the discussion with Marcus, and he ended up accompanying Pyrope to the first few interviews. It was a long night, and it was almost the middle of second shift before they went to bed.

It was going to be a bad one. He wasn’t sure how he knew but he did. It started the way it usually did, Hastur walking him into her office block. She was perched on the edge of her desk, legs spread and feet on the floor. She asked him questions, but the answers were not important. She tried to make him angry, put words in his mouth when what he said did not fit the response she wanted.                            

Her junk was tenting the front of her trousers, shifting under the fabric. Dave couldn’t look away because Hastur didn’t want him to. She was in his head, shoving her arousal into him, her enjoyment of how desperately he didn’t want to be in this block. “Get on your knees,” she said.

He obeyed, trembling and sick. There was a skip and they were both naked, not in the office anymore. They were on the floor of her meeting block. She was pushing into him, claws digging into him, pinning him in place. It hurt, it hurt and he couldn’t even scream. She was in his head and everything went strange and dark.    

_Wake up!_

Dave startled awake, heart pounding. He had a sense that someone was kneeling on the bed, a sense of pressure without presence. The suggestion of a figure with curved horns looming over him, but it was only Vespal, not Hastur. He must have woken him up again. “Boss--?”

_It’s okay, go back to sleep, Dave._

He slid back down into sleep and found himself back at the gendarmedecimator station, answering questions about having shot Ampora. Then Ampora turned up to bitch at him about laundry and the sad absence of his moirail. Ampora made him promise to go look for him, and the search led him to a ship in the Heiress’ Fleet captained by a blue who knew where the moirail was, but wouldn’t tell him unless he watched the Troll _Mikado_ with him.  

Dave woke up the next evening feeling as if he hadn’t gotten any sleep at all. He glanced at the clock and saw that it would be another hour or so before he actually had to get up. It was extremely tempting to just lie there, but he didn’t want to risk going back to sleep and heading into another dream. He also noticed that there was a message window open on his computer screen.

**[ataraxicArchivist (AA) is trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

AA: Hello Dave, I know that you have an appointment later this evening, but I was hoping I could meet you and Terezi for breakfast in the officer’s lounge.

DS: i dont think pyropes up yet should i wake her

AA: No, wait for her to get up. I’ll leave her a message. I wanted to talk to you both about visitations--if that’s not too weird for you right now.

DS: megido that is never not weird but okay.

AA: Have you and Terezi talked about it at all?

DS: i dont know that theres anything to talk about i didnt want to ask kind of like i don’t want to ask now because of coincidences

AA: A diminuitive avian may have indicated you had a restless day.

DS:  yeah that about covers it

AA: Does my having an informant disturb you?

DS: i think you already know the answer to that i dont know how i feel about all this interest in me.

AA: You’re my matesprit’s moirail, so I have a strong interest in your well-being. Also, I like you. See you at breakfast!

**[ataraxicArchivist (AA) is no longer trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

Dave sighed, and went through his usual evening routine. He met Pyrope as she shuffled out of her respite block, heading for the ablution block. She looked like she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep either. She smiled when she saw him though. “I am so glad the only thing I scheduled tonight was the appointment,” she said and went into the ablution block. “We’re going to have breakfast with Aradia,” Pyrope said. “She said she left you a message.”

“She did,” Dave said. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “she wanted to talk about visitations.” There was a thoughtful kind of silence, and then the shower started. He got the feeling she wanted to talk about that as much as he did.

Dave set out some clothes for Pyrope and retreated to the meeting block, where he watched a debate of some kind on one of the ship’s public streams. He heard Pyrope get out of the shower, and felt weirdly hyper aware of her padding quietly to her respite block. It wasn’t fear, just an alertness that wouldn’t let him alone. Somehow, he still jumped a little when she said his name. “Boss?” he asked.

She came out of her respite block, wearing the suit he set out for her. “I’m wondering if I should apologize for not going to you first about the visitation I had,” Terezi said.  “I’m used to taking anything like that to Aradia.”

“No, that’s okay,” Dave said, maybe a little too quickly, because she was giving him a wryly sympathetic smile.

“Let’s go to breakfast.”

The discussion during breakfast was not nearly as creepy as Dave was anticipating. Aradia mostly explained types of visitations and, “things that might be helpful or recognizable across cultures.” She made Pyrope tell him about her encounter with Bro, and asked Dave questions about what his home had been like.

Hearing Pyrope describe things like the way his room had looked when he was a kid reminded him of things he’d forgotten, and put chills down his spine. It also made him feel a little weird at the thought that his Bro was around enough in some sense to want to check up on his boss. Specifically, to check up on his boss the way a concerned paternal figure might check out his little girl’s first date. _“You better have my daughter home by eleven o’clock young man,”_ he muttered under his breath.

Of course, Aradia and Terezi made him explain that. They were both pretty amused by it.

“Your brother cares about you very much,” Aradia said eventually. “Even if he was not able to help you directly, even if he was not able to speak to you, he has always been there for you.”

Aradia’s words hit him in a way that he couldn’t define, struck him so that he resonated with it like a bell. It hurt in an undefinable way, a combination of guilt and anger. He was nine again for a moment; tired and sleeplessly terrified, clutching the passkey his brother had given to him before telling him to _run_. Hoping somehow that Bro would make it somehow, would catch up, would escape and find him somehow but knowing that it wasn’t at all likely. Everything he thought he had put away was sliding out of their boxes. “There wasn’t anything either of us could do,” he said when he could pull himself back together.

“We can’t change what happened, but we can change what will,” Aradia said. The conversation had gone too deep, so it took a while to climb back out of the crater. It was a long strange trip back. Aradia talked a little about ghosts, and encouraged him to tell Terezi if he had any more visitations. “Or tell me. You don’t seem to have any malignant spirits but if one makes an appearance, I can get rid of it for you.”

After the breakfast, his first appointment with a therapist and a psycherugeon was almost anticlimactic. The therapist was a thin, sharp featured woman with dark hair named Ariane and the psycherugeon was an olive blood named Telzey. They asked him a few questions, mostly things they would have already known from his profile and explained what would happen during the course of his treatment. Then they randomly talked about books and movies for the next hour. After that, they spoke to both him and Terezi, and arranged the next appointment.  

“That wasn’t so bad,” Dave said on the way back to the suite. He said it mostly to avert any likelihood of Pyrope saying it.

“No, it wasn’t,” Pyrope said. “But I thought it would be nice to have the rest of the night off anyway,” she smiled at him. “Was there anything you wanted to do?”

“Are you asking me on a date, boss?” Dave asked.

“Tavros has indicated the possibility of there being a jam session today. Slam poetry and probably the torment of innocent musical instruments. It will basically be terrible, especially if Feferi tries to drone in four voices. Which usually only happens when she is drunk. She should just stick to drumming. She does not have the vasculars or chords for it.”

“So this party is including the princess?” Dave asked. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“In this case, we are separating the Title from the Personage,” Pyrope said. “So we will be imposing on my seadweller friend Feferi for a night of fun before we really have to get to work.”


	29. In which there are preparations, parties and poetry

The revolution was in motion. (This was both very exciting, and very boring!)

Some of the ships in the Fleet had already received their assignments and other ships had appeared to join the Heiress’ Fleet. These were usually younger ship captains wanting adventure and overcome by the romance of the first Challenge in centuries. Some of them were members of the Movement; others were there because of the Heiress’ Challenge. For the most part the military would be keeping their noses out of the Challenge unless ordered to do otherwise by the Empress or the Senate--they were traditionally fence sitters during these conflicts. (In any case, the military would have their hands full putting down the insurrections and rebellions that were going to flare up during the Challenge.)  

The first task of Terezi’s division would be to vet the new arrivals and ensure the loyalty of their crews. It was also to enforce the rules and regulations of the Movement. This was very important work, though she almost wished that she were going to be going on missions the way Vriska, Tavros, Aradia and Nepeta were instead of staying with the Fleet the way Kanaya, Karkat and Feferi were. (Logically she knew the Fleet would be going into battle but somehow it felt as if she wasn’t doing nearly as much as her quadrants and corners.)

After the meeting with Marcus, she spoke with Pyrati and Coiver about starting the preliminary background checks for new arrivals. She held interviews for her division, which she had Dave attend as well. (She gave him a list of pertinent questions to ask so she could observe the applicant’s responses.) It was a very long night, stretching into the next shift before they went to bed.

When Terezi got up that evening there was a message from Tavros about holding a gathering before everyone got their assignments. There was also a message from His Tyranny Who Pacifies, requesting an “interview” with Dave before letting him take the exam for the forensitech license. (This was standard procedure, but slightly worrying because she didn’t know the drone very well.) There was another from Aradia that was even more worrisome. _I spoke to Dave. He had a daymare and a visitation during the morning. You and he should meet me for breakfast._ Terezi frowned, and wondered if she should have checked up on him. There was also a fairly mild-for-Aradia reproof for not talking to Dave about being visited by his custodian. _I know it makes you both uncomfortable but you still should have talked about it._

After breakfast was the appointment with the psycherugeon and his partner, a dark haired human woman. It was a little nerve-wracking waiting while they spoke to Dave. She could have demanded to be in the room with them while they interviewed Dave, but she had decided to let him go into the office alone instead. It might send the wrong message, or make him think she didn’t trust him. Eventually they called her into the office to speak to both of them.

The therapist and the psycherugeon took turns asking her questions about adjusting Dave’s conditioning. It was slightly amusing that they were attempting a standard two-person interrogation technique! Terezi answered as best she could, and tried not to be defensive about the line of questioning. Dave attempted to jump in a few times during the interrogation, wanting to defend her. “It’s okay Dave,” Terezi said eventually. “They’re doing their job.” Dave grumbled something rude and subsided.

 At the end of the interrogation, the psycherugeon explained the treatment plan which in addition to eventual psychic surgery for Dave would also involve counseling for both of them. (Dave made a joke about something called _“relationship counseling.”_ Terezi scheduled the next appointment and they left.

They talked on the way back to the suite, though they skirted around the topic of therapy. Instead, Terezi told Dave about the gathering. He seemed particularly interested in Tavros’ poetry. “Are you interested in challenging him?” Terezi asked teasingly. She had seen some of his writing, had been allowed to see it.

“I’ve seen a few vids of his slams on the ship network,” Dave said. “I’d like to hear him in person.”

When they returned to the suite, they talked about the appointment and about visitations, eventually. Dave still wasn’t happy about having to go to a psych, but he covered it with off-hand, deprecating jokes. They circled the topic of the visitation. It was clear that the visitation and daymare had upset him, so Terezi wasn’t inclined to push. 

Dave however seemed determined to push himself. “When I saw him, it was like I was back then, when I was still with Hastur,” Dave said eventually. “He just told me to go back to sleep, and I did.” He told her a little more about Vespal, who had been a colleague of his owner. “Vespal worked pretty closely with Hastur, they were both section leaders.” Dave said. “He’d auspistized for her in the past I think, and he tried to, I don’t know, help me, I guess. Then something happened, and I got sold to Orland.”

“Your records have very little to say on what happened,” Terezi said. “Just that there were some minor personality problems that didn’t respond well to corrective conditioning and came to light shortly after you were purchased.”

“I don’t really remember,” Dave said, and Terezi could hear he was telling the truth. “I remember waking up in an infirmary after an argument between Vespal and Hastur. I was told by the medical tech that I had been sold. A few days later, I was taken to my new owner.” He laughed, bitter and ugly, “I didn’t know what happened to Vespal, just that he was dead.”

“I could do an investigation in that direction,” Terezi said. She was a little curious about what might have happened. It wasn’t _too_ unusual for an owner to leave it to a third party to tell a slave they’d been sold, but something about the circumstances--a caliginous obsession, a former auspistice killed--hinted at a particularly ugly drama. “Or you could, for that matter.”

Dave shook his head. “No. It’s not something I want to dig up right now, maybe later.”

Terezi nodded. “Changing the subject a little, I’ve mostly left you alone when you’ve had daymares.” She paused a moment before continuing. “I was wondering if there was anything I could do. Do you want to be left alone then?”

“I don’t mind being woken up,” Dave said after several minutes. “I hope I haven’t given the impression that I am not comfortable with your presence, Mistress,” He said it in the most correct tone possible, and it was only the little smirk that told her he was joking.

“Except for those times you saw more than you wanted to see,” Terezi said. During the first few weeks she’d had to unlearn the habit of going right from the cupe to the shower, instead of scraping off and grabbing a robe. Dave did not like seeing her naked, and did not like being _seen_ naked, which was an occasional, unavoidable occurrence when you were living together.  

“Thank you for remembering to put on your robe when you get out of your cupe in the evening, boss,” Dave said with mocking sincerity. “Not getting an eyeful of your dangly bits is a gift that never grows old.”

“Pfff,” Terezi swatted Dave, and he laughed. “You pretended not to be bothered by it, and you never told me otherwise. I had to figure it out by myself,” she said. Not that it had been hard to; as much as he pretended, he couldn’t help but give himself away. “And we’re going on a tangent.”

“I don’t mind the tangent either,” Dave said. It was a joke that wasn’t a joke; _can we just circle the issue until it dies of old age?_ “I _am_ comfortable around you.” He hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to find the right words. “I wouldn’t mind you checking up on me,” he said finally. “You’ve kind of done that in the past, when I had daymares.”

“My concern seemed to worry you,” Terezi said. “So I kept my distance after a while.” _Even though I didn’t want to._ “I just want to make sure you know that if you have a restless day you can come to me.

“Are you anticipating an increase of sleepless days boss?” Dave asked flippantly. Under the tone was a complicated mix of shame and worry.

Terezi recalled that one of Dave’s arguments was that therapy would unravel the barriers and mechanisms he used to function. _I need to be able to do my job and I can’t if I’m having meltdowns because of something I got over sweeps ago._  “I’m anticipating future feelings jams,” Terezi said. Moving carefully, she reached out to ruffle his hair. He smiled and pushed her hand away. “I would not mind being your _security blanket,_ ” she said the last two words in English, carefully saying the words the exact way she had heard them.   

It took him a second to figure out what she was talking about, but then he laughed. “You remembered that?”

“I have a very well trained memory,” Terezi said, grinning at Dave. “And the reason why _you are my security blanket,_ should be obvious.”

His brows lifted above his shades. “Really now.”  

_“Because of cuddles, Dave,”_ Terezi said earnestly. _“I’m all about the cuddles.”_

Dave snorted, looking amused. “Well come over here then,” he said, holding his arms out. She settled into his embrace, and they sat like that on the couch to watch a romcom and talk about nothing particularly important before they got ready for the gathering.

Before they left, she told Dave about the interview with Pacifies. Dave looked a little nervous at the idea. “This is the part where you tell me there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you like that, Dave,” Terezi said with a grin.

“Thanks boss, I can always count on you,” Dave said dryly.

John absconded with Dave the moment they arrived at the Heiress’ suiteblock. (“Dave we scrounged some DJ equipment for you, check it out--”) Terezi was a little surprised to find both of Aradia’s ashenmates at the gathering. Sarius usually made the occasional appearance, but almost never Narses. Terezi asked about it, after exchanging greetings with the pair. “Oh, he lost a bet, and this is his forfeit,” Sarius said.

“Really?” Terezi asked.

“No,” Narses said, giving his partner an irritated look. “I decided to attend because I didn’t want to hear you and Aradia complain that I suck the ‘fun’ out of everything. And I was promised poetry.” He huffed grumpily. “Not that I know anything of its quality.”

“You liked the poetry just fine before you found out the poet’s a brown-blood,” Sarius said. “Don’t lie.”

“I resent being ‘tricked,’ into reading something, as if I weren’t capable of judging the quality of a work based on its own merits.” Narses said. “I appreciated the poetry, but live performance is another matter.”

After a little more conversation with Aradia’s ashenmates, Terezi wandered off, looking to see if Aradia had arrived yet. She caught sight of Jade Harley and Sollux. This was almost as surprising as seeing both Sarius and Narses. Though she knew that Sollux had attended Ampora’s sentencing, she had somehow thought that Sollux would still be in the infirmary. Instead, he was in an automated four-wheeled device. Harley was sitting nearby. They had husktops in their laps and were either talking or playing a game, or possibly both. Sollux noticed her first, looking up over the monitor, followed by Harley a second later. “Hello Mr. Appleberry, I didn’t expect to see you out and about so soon,” Terezi said, recklessly using one of her old nicknames for him.

Sollux appeared to remember it, or at least was amused by it. “Vantas fault, mostly, Neophyte,” Sollux said after a beat. “And JD.”

“The security chief invited him, I nagged him into it,” Harley said.

“It seemed like something to do, since I can’t link directly with anything,” Sollux said.

“A lot of the Helmsmen complain about that,” Terezi said sympathetically. She tried not to smile too widely at the familiar, snarky tone. It was still a shadow of what she remembered, and he was calling her ‘Neophyte’ instead of her name, but Terezi would take what she could get. “It’s only for a few weeks though.

“You might as well say sweeps, Neophyte,” Sollux said. “That’s the equivalent. I’m slow and stupid like this.” He smacked his hand on the armrest. “I’m operating this thing _manually_ for fuck’s sake.” Sollux sounded incredibly disgusted.

“You’ll have to yell at your medical team about that,” Terezi said.

“For all the good it will do me,” Sollux grumbled.

Terezi made appropriate sympathetic noises and made polite conversation (while covertly attempting to acquire as much information about Harley’s entire life history as she could). They were soon joined by Aradia and the four of them ended up playing a human computer game.  

Eventually, there was music and the promised poetry. First John, Karkat and Feferi did a few covers of pop songs that were popular just before Ascension, then Dave and Tavros came out with a digital mixer, sound equipment and a husktop, which they set up near John’s piano. “DJ D. Stri has agreed to provide me with phat beats and righteous noise,” Tavros said. “This is our first time together, though we both have experience.”

“I’ll try to be gentle,” Dave said. His demeanor changed, as he and Tavros made eye contact. His posture and the tilt of his smile had become challenging and somehow provocative. “But I can’t promise.”

Tavros grinned his own challenge. “Well make me swoon with a bass down low and a beat that’s slow.”

Dave provided Tavros with the sarcastic little wobble of sound that was usually used in comedies indicate that a line was a ridiculous embarrassment before providing a beat that was the opposite of the one requested. Tavros launched into one of his poems. It was the one of the early ones he had written about Nepeta, during one of their “is it flush or charcoal” roleplaying flirtations. Not one of his best, but it was cute. He recited another humorous poem; one he had sworn up and down was not about Vriska Serket. (He was so lying.)

The next poem was more serious: “...In this liminal state neither here nor there, I was waiting contemplating, the beating of my heart, and the breath in my lungs. I was aware but not awake. A temporary existentialist, hoping for a fix, a kiss a chance to be brave, to take that risk...” After a couple more poems, Tavros switched places with Dave.

Dave’s set was only three poems. Terezi had known that Dave had DJed and had also engaged in slam poetry on occasion. She had been allowed to read over his shoulder sometimes, but had never heard him perform until now. She hadn’t even wanted to ask him to. He was her secretarial asset, not someone there to entertain her. The writing he let her read and the music he let her hear were gifts he shared with her.

The first poem was about his brother. It was angry, sad and full of longing for something that was gone and half-forgotten. The next poem was about John. This was a happier poem that made fun of him. It was full of references that Terezi didn’t quite understand, things that were clearly in jokes between the two of them. The third poem was about her, and it was filled with a sense of baffled, paradoxical affection: “...I’m confused see, the blackest pale. I admire sharp edges and angles, razor wires, she pities and then she sharpens me, and I want to fit myself to her...”

At the end of it she felt flustered, delighted and appalled. She wanted to hide her face and run, she wanted to drag him with her to the nearest pile. She wanted find out in plainer speech what the poem meant. Instead, she jumped up and hugged him once he handed the mic back to Tavros. “I can’t even begin to list the ways I love you,” Terezi said, and tugged him to where she had been sitting. “You’re translating all of that later, just so you know.”

“I’ll try,” Dave said. “If I could explain it better, it wouldn’t be poetry.”

 


	30. In which Dave experiences interrogations investigative and therapeutic

In the evening, Dave’s inbox was stuffed with messages. Most of them were about the slam, which Nitram had apparently put audio clips of on the _Steadfast’s_ poetry forum. In addition to the comments from the forum thread, there were also numerous direct messages. The wall between Dave Strider, secretarial asset and D. Stri, entertainer had just been mined and detonated by a diligent crew of sappers, and now commandoes were coming in through the hole in the defenses. 

There was also a message from Marcus’ husband, something from Karkat and something from His Tyranny Who Pacifies. There was also a reminder notice for his next therapy session. Dave decided to read them in the order of least disturbing message first. It turned out that Mr. Marcus wanted to arrange defense classes. Dave sent back a few suggested times. The note from Karkat turned out to be a rambling lecture about quadrants that might or might not have also been a fan letter. He sent a reply back: _Well, I don’t think I can help “quadrant mixing,” sir since humans don’t have quadrants. Most of that poem was just off the top of my head, anyway, what sounded right at the time._

The message from His Tyranny Who Pacifies was a request for an appointment at the earliest convenience. **this is a preliminary assessment before taking the forensitech examination. i am also somewhat interested in learning more of your general background since neophyte pyrope has indicated certain ambitions for your career.**

Dave stared at the message for several minutes. “Boss,” Dave said in the calmest voice he could manage. “Did you tell His Tyranny about wanting me to be a legislacerator?”

“Yes, I did,” Pyrope said, looking up from her husktop. “But I’m pretty radical even for a member of the Movement, and I’m not sure if he took my statement at face value!”

Dave read the message out loud. “I think he did, boss,” Dave said.

“Well, he didn’t maim me when I brought it up, so I don’t think he’ll bite your head off, Dave,” Pyrope said reasonably. 

“If he does, I am going to haunt you, boss,” Dave said. “When would be a good time to meet with him?”

“Before your next therapy appointment, maybe?” Pyrope suggested.

“That’s doable,” Dave said after thinking about it for a moment. He wrote back to His Tyranny, with a suggested date and time. “Hopefully I won’t need the infirmary, afterward.”

“Mediates was really interested in you,” Pyrope said in a seeming non sequitur that made Dave look up at her, because what the hell. “I’m pretty sure he suggested Orland’s rental agency to me because you were there.”

Dave struggled with that piece of information for a moment, confused as to what Pyrope might be getting at. “Why me?” He asked.

“You were the only one at the agency who had the qualifications to be a secretarial asset for a legislacerator with my skill sets,” Pyrope said. “Which he would have found out if he had looked at your records.”

That was even more confusing. “Why would he have--oh.” Dave said. “You mean he’d been following the Petris Meridian trial?” He had no idea of what he felt about that. _Pyrope bought me because her mentor pointed her in my direction._ Like an armor-plated fairy godfather.

Pyrope nodded. “I think he would have been curious enough about you to rent you himself if I hadn’t bought you,” she said. “I think you’ll be ‘interesting’ to His Tyranny Who Pacifies for pretty much the same reason you were interesting to Mediates.” A pause. “And me.”

“Because of my ungodly levels of swag?”

That got him a snicker. “Because of your ‘whistle blowing,’” Terezi said.

Dave nodded. It made a few things the Drone had said during their first meeting a little clearer. Dave been asked about his education, about his custodian, about the media programming he’d been exposed to, but not about the trial itself. (Though that made a kind of sense, Mediates had no need to question him about it, since he knew the details already.) He remembered how nervous Pyrope had been, though he hadn’t realized it at first since he’d been pretty anxious himself at being left alone with a Drone at the time. “Boss, did he ever tell you he’d set you up, or did you figure it out by yourself?”

“He never told me directly,” Pyrope said. “He did seem to assume that I had researched the case, which of course I had.”

“Primary sources and everything,” Dave said. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about it, and it made him feel weird. He wanted to ask the Drone himself, but that wasn’t something that was likely to happen in the near future. Or distant future. “Is whistle blowing that unusual? Following the correct procedures and reporting aberrations from same was just part of my training.”

“The way you did it?” Terezi asked. “Yes. Someone willing to go to the lengths you did to report the embezzlement is very rare. Most slaves would have been stopped when their master told them to disregard the criminal activity, but you kept pushing, and then went to the gendarmedecimators when he wouldn’t listen to you.”

Dave shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. “I couldn’t just do nothing,” he said. “I was kind of surprised at the time that the case went anywhere though.”

Pyrope smiled. “You were in the right place at the right time. Reading between the lines, I’d say the case was someone’s pet project, and you came along with the proof they were looking for.” They talked some more about the case, and then Pyrope sent him out on a few errands while she went to meetings.

He returned to the suite with some dinner from one of the cafeterias. He set his dinner on the table by the couch and started to read the comments to Nitram’s audio post on his husktop while he ate. Most of the comments were positive, a few critical, and it looked like several of them had been flagged and blocked by Nitram. From Nitram’s responses, the blocked comments had been pretty negative.      

  **[daveStrider (DS) is now trolling abreactingTorero (AT)]**

 DS: hello, sir i noticed you put up the jam from yesterday

 AT: Yes I did. I hope it’s not a problem. I usually put up recordings of any jam sessions we do, in the spirit of fostering a sense of community.

 DS: i guess i dont have a problem with that

 DS: you didnt have to delete the more rude comments though it wouldnt have been anything i havent read before

 AT: Actually, I did have to. Non-constructive criticism is against the rules on my forums, and I’m pretty strict about enforcing them. }:)

 DS: okay so it wasnt anything special you were doing for pyrope

 AT: No, it wasn’t a quadrant-corner thing, if that is what you’re asking. It was an, “I hate people being assholes in my forum” thing.

 AT: I probably shouldn’t ask this, but would it be a problem if it were a quadrant-corner thing?

 DS: i don’t know sir i don’t think so

 AT: Good, because I have no problems with being on your corner. }:D I am looking forward to rapping with you in the future.

 DS: thanks   

  **[daveStrider (DS) is no longer trolling abreactingTorero (AT)]**

 After messaging with Nitram, Dave responded to a few of the comments in the thread, and then read through the private messages. Again, it was a mix of positive responses with some fairly detailed critiquing. He answered a few of the messages, and went through his inbox for messages that actually had to do with his job. After that, he answered more messages and went on to work on studying for his exam while eating his dinner. Pyrope returned to the suite a few hours later, and after she had dinner, they went out to the gym to spar.

* * *

Dave really did not like that he had to go to the meeting with His Tyranny alone. He could tell that Pyrope didn’t like it very much either, but didn’t argue with the Drone’s attendant when she was prevented from entering the hivesuite. “His Tyranny wishes to speak with the candidate alone, Legislacerator,” the attendant said. “Please wait outside, if you would.” Pyrope had nodded, and the attendant shut the door and ushered him into the hivesuite’s meeting block.

His Tyranny Who Pacifies was only a little smaller than Mediates had been which was still pretty big. The Judicial drone was curled up in a bizarrely catlike fashion on a low, wide platform. **“don’t bother with the formalities,”** the Drone said somewhat impatiently when Dave had started to bow. **“have a seat.”** The Drone waved a claw in the general direction of a cushion. Dave obeyed immediately. **“dani, go make some tea,”** the Drone said to his attendant.

“Yes, Your Honor,” the attendant said, and retreated to the small nutrition block.

**“now. your mistress has some interesting ambitions for you. tell me how you feel about them.”**

_Scared shitless, Your Honor,_ Dave thought. “Overwhelmed sir.” He wondered if he should add in a few _I am in no way worthy_ curlicues to that, but decided that might be a bad idea. Too much self-deprecation might count as formality. “Mistress believes it is something I could achieve.”

**“do you think this elevation is likely?”**

“I don’t know,” Dave said. “That isn’t something I could predict.”

**“is it something you want?”**

Dave had no idea of how to answer that. “Mistress believes I have the capacity,” Dave said finally, and tried not to flinch when Pacifies clicked irritably.

**“neophytes are mentored by judicial drones so that the young legislacerator may learn how to interact with them. it is also to protect them from any other judicial drone with less patience.”**

Shit. He had no idea of what he was doing wrong, but Pacifies was definitely giving him some kind of warning. What the warning was supposed to be, though... “Yes Your Honor,” Dave said. “So I have read.”

**“i know what your mistress believes. tell me what you believe.”**

“A lot would have to change before I could be a legislacerator. Maybe before I could even hope to apply,” Dave said, his voice shaking only a very little bit.

The Drone made a thoughtful sort of sound, and then started interrogating him. Asking him specific questions related to material Dave was studying, asking him questions about what he thought about cases he had observed so far. It was a little like the rapid fire verbal examinations he had seen in historical dramas, and thinking of it that way seemed to settle his nerves a little. He tried to answer as quickly and with as much detail as he could, and eventually the questions came to an end. The attendant handed him a cup of tea, and he drank. The questions continued, but it was more along the lines of the Drone version of small talk.

At the end of the interview, a about an hour and a half later, the attendant escorted him out of the suite. “His Honor will send you the link to a locked feed shell where your slave will take his examination,” the attendant said to Pyrope. “It can be taken at any time in the next few days.” Pyrope looked a little annoyed that the attendant was talking over his head, but she thanked the attendant.

Once the attendant had gone back into the suite, Dave slumped against the bulkhead in not-quite-mock exhaustion. Pyrope looked somewhere between concerned and amused. “Are you alright, Dave?” she asked.

“I still have all of my teeth and fingernails, so I’m good Boss,” Dave said, and straightened. “His Tyranny is only a little bit less terrifying than your mentor.”

Pyrope snorted. “I’m glad you survived the experience,” she said. “What’s on the schedule for today.”

It was completely not fair that she expected him to remember shit after getting pumped like that by a Judicial Drone. “New hire meeting, boss,” Dave said, fumbling for his planner. “And ship assignments. And setting up house on your ship--specifically, seeing if the ship admin did what she was supposed to.”

“Let’s get to it then,” Pyrope said cheerfully.

* * *

The first therapy session happened a few nights after the meeting with His Tyranny, early the next evening. He felt a little self-conscious as he went into the office and slid into a chair near the desk. The therapist smiled. “Hello Mr. Strider, how are you feeling tonight?”

“Fine, I guess,” Dave said.

She asked him a number of small-talk type questions, and then she mentioned poetry slam at the party. “I heard clips of your poems on Commander Nitram’s forum,” she said. “I thought they were very good.”

Dave shrugged. “Thanks.” He wondered if they were going to be talking about what his relationship with his brother had been like, or maybe his relationship with John or Pyrope. Instead, she asked him questions about his DJing gigs and performances. “It wasn’t like I was wildly successful or anything. It was just a little money on the side. I don’t even know why he let me do it--let me have something like that.”

“Maybe he always wanted to be a talent agent,” Ariane suggested with a slight smile.

“Heh. Maybe.”  Dave remembered Orland saying _, “If you start getting regular gigs, we can negotiate how much time you can spend between rentals on your side-business.”_  He remembered Orland listening to his music, remembered the occasional music seeds Orland had given him as rewards. The offer had been retracted after the trial, along with most of the privileges Dave had earned. “He wasn’t a bad master,” Dave said. It was the safest thing he could say about Orland. “I think he decided that he’d been too easy on me, after the trial though.”

The therapist asked him more questions about Orland, careful questions about disciplining procedures and interactions. Dave had a definite feeling she was looking for something, but wasn’t sure exactly what it was. He remembered Pyrope asking similar questions about how Orland had treated him. It made him feel a little uncomfortable, mostly because it wasn’t Pyrope asking him the questions. He answered, somewhat reluctantly. She asked him how he felt about the removal of privileges, which wasn’t something he could really answer. “I disobeyed him, it was his right to discipline me as he saw fit,” Dave said, which was safe and rote.

“If you hadn’t disobeyed him, he could have lost his business,” Ariane said. “And possibly his life.”

“It was his right to discipline me as he saw fit,” Dave repeated. The therapist backed off a little at that, but asked him to think about how he felt about how Orland treated him.

“For the next session, would you be willing to allow Dr. Telzey to scan you?” Ariane asked near the end of the session. “If not, he’d at least like an opportunity to sit in near the end of the session.”

It took him a moment to find words. “How much of a choice do I actually have?” He asked. “If this is something I have to do anyway.”

“It would be more than a little hypocritical for me to claim you have complete freedom of choice,” Ariane said. “I promise he won’t scan you without your permission, and in the future, he’ll explain any procedure he performs.”

He wanted to say no, he wanted to say _fuck no_. Instead, he said, “I’ll allow him to scan me.”  

“Would you like to have Legislacerator Pyrope with you?”

Dave nodded.

“Then for the next visit, we’ll have a shortened session and then Dr. Telzey will scan you,” Ariane said. She walked him back into the waiting area, and then it was Pyrope’s turn to go into the office. Dave spent the time reviewing his planner and making notes.

He thought about the session, about the questions the therapist had asked, and about Orland. About being angry with Orland, which wasn’t something he’d ever admit to out loud. Pyrope’s session was maybe a little shorter, but not by much. Pyrope exited looking a little thoughtful. Dave stood up. “Hey boss, let’s go to lunch,” he said. “I think we have rest of the day free, so was there anything you wanted to do?”

“Movie, and maybe visiting Captor, if he’s up to it. His moirail indicates he’d like some company.”


	31. In which the Neophyte considers her methods and espouses the sink or swim method of on the job training

_“You mentioned that you feel as if your methods weren’t any different from Hastur’s,” Ariane said midway through their conversation. “Could you expand on that?”_

_“Knowing what was done to Dave makes me angry. Knowing that I’ve made mistakes in handling Dave makes me angry. Knowing that I might have reminded him of Hastur sometimes makes me sick. Hastur had a black fixation and I have a pale one but are we really any different?”_

_“From an emotional and unprofessional standpoint, I want to say yes._ Yes of course you’re different. _But that won’t actually help you and it certainly won’t help Dave,” Ariane said. “So I won’t give you a reassurance that you’re ‘not like the others.’”_

_“What about a professional standpoint?” Terezi asked._

_“Hm. From a professional standpoint, you did the best you could with the tools and information available. From a professional human standpoint, it’s somewhat problematic that you want an emotional, intimate relationship with a ‘patient.’”_

_“It isn’t a Florence Nightingale thing,” Terezi said automatically._

_Ariane blinked. “Where did you hear about ‘Florence Nightingale,’ Neophyte?”_

_“Dave’s brother,” Terezi said after a moment. “I received a visitation, and later, I researched the term.”_

_Ariane blinked again, bemused. “Would you be willing to tell me about this visitation?”_

_“He wanted to talk to me, and hinted that he approved of my helping Dave,” Terezi said. “He asked me if my feelings were romantic or if it was a ‘nightingale’ thing where I was only wanting to ‘fix’ Dave.  You reminded me of the conversation, just now.”_

_“I see. And what did you tell him?”_

_“I told him that the question he asked me presumed that only Dave needed to be fixed and that was the only point of Serendipity between us. In a moirallegiance, both halves need the other’s support. It’s true that there’s usually a side that needs to be subdued and one who does the subduing, but if both halves weren’t being sustained, it would collapse.”_

Dave was nervous about the test, and was trying not to show it (he wasn’t doing a very good job). Terezi teased him a little, and told him that she knew he would pass the exam. She pointed out that he’d had lots of hands-on experience as well as access to good training modules. “Everything will be fine, you’ll get a good grade and you’ll get your license.”

“If you say so boss,” Dave said.

“Then it’s decided,” she said and kissed the top of his head before leaving the office.  

Terezi found herself thinking about her session with the therapist. Somehow, she hadn’t quite realized until that meeting that the therapy was for both of them, not just Dave, with Terezi acting as his caretaker. (“No, this is definitely ‘relationship counseling.’ Dave had it exactly right,” Ariane had said cheerfully.) The conversation had wandered all over the place, from her quadrants to her personal history, to her work, to her attempts to modify Dave’s conditioning, and what she knew about Dave’s previous history. The session had given her a lot to think about, that she was still processing.

She had known that a great deal of Dave’s manner was a façade, that there were layers underneath that she hadn’t reached yet. Most of what she had done when working with him was redefine parameters. She gave him a new set of limits that he had stretched to fit. She had been looking for the “real” Dave underneath the loyalty mods and conditioning, had rewarded him for his critical thinking skills and independent actions, for his ability to think on his feet. (“The model you were using can be a very effective tool, but I want you to think about this phrase; ‘there is nothing there that wasn’t already,’” Ariane said.)  

Terezi had also been given a number of tapes and files about the training procedures used on (human) military washouts like Dave. Terezi only skimmed through the first few files, and decided that she would only review them if she were sure Dave wasn’t around. Somehow, it felt like an invasion of Dave’s privacy to have the files on hand, even though none of the slaves in the demonstrations looked like him. It had felt as if just having the files meant that she was somehow complicit in the way Dave was taken apart and put back together. It was an extremely stupid thought, but she couldn’t help having it. Dave’s own traits and inclinations both positive and negative had been used against him, to turn him into the person he was. Someone had gone into his head, rearranged everything and told him he should be happy about it.

(And then, someone else came along and fucked everything up even more.)  

Terezi occupied herself with getting ready for finalizing the move to her ship, answering e-mails and trying to figure out how she was going to fit Dave into her organization chart. She wanted to keep him assigned to her instead of to one of the sub-teams. She also wanted to get more clerks and secretaries in her division. Terezi knew she could probably raid Peixes’ secretarial pool for recruits, but they were mostly mid to high bloods--would they be willing to work under Dave? Would Dave be willing to be bumped up a level to manager until she could find someone to replace him as a secretary?

Dave emerged from the office Three hours later. He smelled frazzled and tired in a way that Terezi did not miss at all from her own experiences in taking exams. “I hate essay questions,” Dave said, and settled onto the couch beside her. “No one told me that the test would be mostly essay questions.”

“I can’t imagine how that slipped my mind!” Terezi said cheerfully. “We’re moving to _Balanced Blade_ tonight. That’s we as in the core team. You can supervise when the crew turns up to make the transfer.”

Dave nodded, then looked thoughtful. “Boss, is Marcus going to be moving her family there?”

“It was something we talked about. She wants to commute between _Balanced Blade_ and the flagship,” Terezi said. “I would prefer that her dependents were on _Balanced Blade_ , and had the ship admin assign her quarters based on the assumption that they would at least be visiting her.”

“Okay,” Dave said.

They talked some more, mostly about the organization chart and Dave being in charge of the secretarial pool, when they had one. “You can talk to Kanaya, ask her if there’s anyone who might be a good fit for the division. Talk to the people she suggests and see if you’ll be able to work with them.”

The look on Dave’s face was endearingly gobsmacked. “Boss, you want me to do the hiring?”

“You’re going to be in charge, you should be able to pick who you want to be in charge of, Dave,” Terezi said.

“That’s a lot of responsibility boss,” Dave said with an odd tone. It was somewhere between uncertain and cautious.

“I know,” Terezi said. “But I’m confident you’ll do fine. And you’ll only be in charge until you can pick and train your successor, anyway.”

“Okay boss,” Dave said, still sounding a little doubtful. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

The next few nights were a little hectic, both from the transfer to _Balanced Blade_ and because of a number of cases suddenly popping up. Four murders, some thefts and a high blood completely losing her mind because of having received a very nasty package, had beaten the courier half to death and then engaged in a self-destructive fit that had been more terrifying for the witnesses than the initial attack had been.   

Most of the cases were handled by the sub-teams, with His Tyranny presiding via teleconference, but Terezi handled the high blood case herself, with Dave as back up. He hovered nervously in the background, obviously wanting to yank Terezi away from the narrow storage closet where the indigo was crouched. Fortunately, the indigo seemed to think this was funny. “Is that white crow back there doing all the fluttering your lusus, Neophyte?” she asked.

“He’s one of my partners,” Terezi said. “Other team members are interrogating the person who delivered that package to you and the witnesses. If you’ll sit with us in the rec block over there we’ll take down your statement.” 

The indigo drew a shaky breath. “Give me a minute,” she said. After a few more deep breaths, the indigo rose to her feet and followed Terezi and Dave to the rec block. She was bleeding from several self-inflicted bites and gouges as well as bruises and cuts from her fight with the troll who’d delivered the package.

“May one of us tend to your injuries?” Terezi asked.

The indigo’s head lowered defensively for a moment, but she gave her assent. “The crow.”

 Dave took out an emergency aid kit from his sylladex, and cleaned and bandaged the indigo’s wounds. Then he took notes as Terezi questioned her. The indigo’s name was Kerres Kappra and she was a high ranking ruffianannihilator who had joined the Movement and the Heiress’ Fleet about a sweep ago. When she was much younger she and a group of friends had gotten tangled up in a horrific revenge cycle. She swore that as far as she’d known, the revenge cycle had been over and done with, which had been why she’d never mentioned it when signing onto the Fleet. Then a package containing a skin puppet of one of her closest friends arrived via courier. “It was supposed to be over, he was supposed to be _safe_ ,” Kerres said. “Me and Jhehan were the only ones who made it to Ascension, and that was only because we--” she cut herself. “It was supposed to be _over_.”

“Tell me everything you can,” Terezi said encouragingly. The questioning took another hour, and then the security team arrived to take the indigo to the infirmary. The indigo’s story had been gruesome, filled with details that belonged in a horror movie and left Terezi feeling queasy and Dave looking green around his nonexistent gills.

Dave waited until they got back to _Balanced Blade_ before asking any questions. “So uh. Zombies are really a thing on Alternia.”

“Caused by any of about a dozen species of parasitic wasp larvae,” Terezi said. “Or a very powerful psychic puppeting their body. The Demoness Cult sounds more unlikely though secret proscribed religious cults should be completely unsurprising by now.”

_“Jesus,”_ Dave said, and shuddered.

 “ _Very_ Jegus,” Terezi said. Dave choked on a slightly shaky laugh. “So there’s someone out there who is pursuing a vendetta against a ruffianannihilator because once upon a time a group of kids decided to play wandering heroes errant and ended up in a situation they couldn’t handle. Someone willing and able to send a package like that via our supply line, which is a very not-good thing--something like that should have been caught.”   

 “Unless they caught the ghost, boss,” Agneta said suddenly.

 Dave startled badly, letting out a short scream and then flushing with deep embarrassment. He then proceeded to pretend that nothing happened. It was stupidly endearing, but Terezi did her best to go along with the denial.

 “That’s even more not-good,” Terezi said.

 Agneta nodded. “The box was insulated with a psychic dampener. I was only able to get information via psychometry--I couldn’t reach the victim himself,” Agneta said. “He’s not there at all, so no one with psychopomp abilities would have been able to sense his spirit, and no one with prognostication or psychometry would have sensed anything from the box or contents. I didn’t sense a thing until we took the puppet out of the box.”

Dave was turning green again, so Terezi gave him something to do elsewhere. “Put together a report and send an alert to Vantas,” Terezi said. “I think we will _not_ tell our client about that part.” Dave absconded immediately.

“Is Dave okay?” Agneta asked, looking a little embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to startle him.”

“You should tell him that,” Terezi said. “What we learned was very disturbing and very sad.”

“I’ll do that,” Agneta said, “but maybe later.”

Terezi was a little worried about Dave, but he seemed to regain his composure after a few hours. He was very much back to normal by dinner time. After dinner, Terezi and Dave met with the Marcuses at the gym on the _Steadfast_. While Dave worked on teaching Mr. Marcus and the children basic hand to hand and “get away” moves, Terezi talked to Mrs. Marcus, filling her in on the details of the current case. Marcus’ reaction was very similar to Dave’s when she heard about revenants. “You have to have heard about them before now,” Terezi said.

“Yes, well, it just seemed like some strange sort of prank, telling the natives tall tales because they’re gullible,” Marcus said.

“No, revenants are very real,” Terezi said. “I am hoping the Demoness Cult is extremely imaginary, or at least exaggerated.”

“Why is that?” Marcus asked. “From what I remember from a required religion course, the cult didn’t seem all that different from other Alternian ‘death cults.’”

“That would be hard to explain,” Terezi said. _Especially since you think ghosts are actually ‘demons.’_ “The shortest explanation is that the _Demoness_ doesn’t like the Demoness Cult. And the Handmaid is not capable of liking or disliking _anything_.”

“I see,” Marcus said uneasily.

“ _Demoness_ Cults are normally the province of really horrible horror movies involving liches and necromancers, or the fans of those movies. The _historical_ Demoness Cult collapsed under the weight of its own nihilism a few hundred sweeps ago. At least, as far as anyone knows. So if the cultists are real, they are more likely to be the former than the latter.” Terezi grinned. “And I should probably change the subject, for the comfort of all concerned,” she said.

 “I have absolutely no objection to that,” Marcus said.

 The conversation wandered a great deal. Terezi was curious about Marcus’ background and the way that it differed from Dave’s. She asked questions about Marcus’ schoolfeeding and her former position. She also asked about how Marcus had ended up becoming friends with Peixes and Karkat. (She had apparently been approached by Karkat at a party, and Karkat had eventually introduced her to Peixes.) Marcus seemed a little uncomfortable about the questions, but answered them, and asked questions in turn, mostly about Terezi’s background.

 “It always seemed a little strange to me, a planet full of children with no adult supervision,” Marcus said at one point. “How does something like that work?”

 “It isn’t really ‘no supervision,’” Terezi said. “If it were, we’d all be ferals! We have lusii of course and but there are also satellites and Academy Stations in orbit, adult jades and drones on the ground stations and in the caverns. They handle most of the infrastructure and they also supply education and socialization modules.”

“How intelligent are the lusii?”

“It depends on the lusus,” Terezi said. “They’re smarter than real animals but usually not as smart as a troll.” Terezi smiled. “I had enough trouble taking care of my lusus when she was a dragonet, I’m not sure how you manage to take care of your offspring and perform your adult duties at the same time.”

“It helped that there are two of us and Bill was willing to work from home,” Marcus said. “You were more or less on your own, weren’t you?”  

“I had my friends, who were usually able to help,” Terezi said. She shared a few stories with Marcus about taking care of an excessively energetic dragonet, and heard some stories that sounded like they would be excessively embarrassing to the Marcus offspring if they knew she was telling tales about them. The conversation continued for an hour after Dave finished working with Mr. Marcus and the children, with Dave and Mr. Marcus joining in intermittently. Eventually they parted company, with the Marcus family returning to their suite and Terezi and Dave returning to Balanced Blade.

The rest of the day was quiet with Dave having a conference with Kanaya and Terezi reviewing reports. Terezi’s dreams were filled with horror movie jump scares and a daymare involving an army of zombies wearing Dave’s face. She woke up from that dream mumbling, “dead Daves are the enemy,” and then had a very embarrassing moment when what she thought was a Dave-zombie suddenly loomed over her recuperacoon.

Not-a-zombie Dave dodged back with an exclamation. “Boss?” He asked, sounding unnerved.

“It’s okay Dave,” Terezi said, sitting up and reaching for her robe, which turned out to be slightly out of reach unless she wanted to show Dave her rumble spheres. Dave helpfully handed her the robe, which she put on as she clambered out of the cupe. “Are you alright?”

“Just having creepy dreams,” Dave said, sounding a little embarrassed. “I thought I’d make good on your offer, but it looked like you were having daymares too.”

“I was,” Terezi admitted. She headed for the ablution block, indicating Dave should follow. “Tell me about your dream?” She asked as she stepped into the trap. She rinsed and wrung out her robe first, passing it back to Dave before rinsing herself off.

“It was about my brother, at first,” Dave said, hanging up her robe. “We were up on the roof of our old apartment building. He was trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t hear him. Then smoke started coming out of his mouth, and he started walking toward me. I backed away and went over the edge. Then I saw you.” Dave’s voice faltered. “You were dead and there was this...thing just behind you. It moved toward me and I couldn’t see what it was, and for some reason I knew if it touched me I’d be dead too, but I couldn’t move--and then I woke up.”   

“My dream--I dreamed that you kept dying and coming back to life, and somehow I had to find the original you to make it stop. There were hundreds of you everywhere, but you were never the one I was looking for, and the suddenly you were all zombies, and it was my fault. It was extremely disturbing.”

“Sounds like it,” Dave said sympathetically.   

She turned off the water, and Dave handed her a dry robe. “I think the only way to get the grue out of our heads is to watch something inanely adorable,” Terezi said as she put it on and stepped out of the trap. “And pretend that tomorrow we will not have a busy day.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various inspirations: Seanan McGuire's song [**"Dear Gina"**](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aPNb_Gagfpg) and Eric Flint's Dance of Time series, where I snitched the idea of the skin puppet.


	32. In which Dave tries not to run out of spoons and tours the Movement’s Resource Department

The inanely adorable movies turned out to be pale porn, more or less. On one hand, they actually did manage to erase the remnants of the daymare he had. On the other hand, they were porn. Lots of snuggling and the occasional tickle fight. Heartfelt conversations where one partner laid the other bare in an entirely metaphorical fashion. There was lots of subduing action and tender caretaking scenes involving activities like first aid, hair brushing and the occasional shared bath.

Pyrope cackled when he confronted her about it after an especially sappy movie involving a group effort to rescue an adorable and hapless recent conscript who had been packed in a storage crate as a joke. “I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out,” Pyrope said gleefully.

“I’m just that innocent,” Dave said. “I am completely shocked by all of this prurience.”   

“I am a terrible influence,” Pyrope said, and made him pick the next movie.

Eventually they went back to bed, Pyrope making a pile for him to sleep on in her respite block. Pyrope dropped off a few minutes after she slid into the sopor, but Dave didn’t get back to sleep for another hour. He kept thinking about the videos, and about Pyrope leaning against him while they watched them. They’d kissed and cuddled on the couch before, and she’d fallen asleep in his bed and he’d fallen asleep on the couch with his head in her lap before, so there hadn’t been anything particularly significant or unusual about it. It felt normal and comfortable, even with the occasional obstruction of one of Pyrope’s sharp horns.

Except for the part where he kept thinking about it. It wasn’t the cuddling as such that he was thinking about, so much as the feeling of comfort and familiarity he had felt. He had felt this way before with Pyrope, but up to now, it hadn’t felt too much different from the conditioned “good dog” bennies he got when he did something he was supposed to correctly. He remembered Aradia telling him, _“don’t think of it as another duty, even if you’re tempted to do so.”_ He remembered Terezi worrying that he would tell her what he thought she wanted to hear.

Yeah. That was definitely a thing that could happen. You didn’t even need to be _thinking_ for it to happen. It just happened because the bennies weren’t specifically linked to an owner’s approval, they were linked to accomplishing a task that resulted in the owner being pleased. _“Don’t expect or seek praise. Take pleasure in completing a task correctly and in being a convenience to your owner.”_ There was difference between feeling good because you did what you were supposed to do and feeling good because you...felt good. He had felt good because the movies had been diabetes-inducing unironically sweet and ridiculously fluffy and making little side comments that made Pyrope snicker made _him_ feel good, not because he was doing his job correctly.     

Thinking about it that way made Dave feel uncomfortable. _“My service repays the debt I owe the Empire for the care and schoolfeeding I received. I am content to serve in any capacity my owner deems suitable for me.”_ The rote phrases that sprang to mind didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. He eventually drifted off into confusing dreams involving characters from badly dubbed and strangely addictive Alternian action adventure programs he’d watched when he was a kid.

* * *

Dave learned new faces and names over the next few days. There was the captain, crew and helmsman of _Balanced Blade_ , the sub-teams and their clerical staff and the crews and helmsmen of the pinnaces. His job involved working getting the clerical staff organized and getting a new supervisor to take his place. He’d never had a supervisory position before and Pyrope’s blithe confidence in his abilities did not in any way help to ease his worry that he might screw up somehow.

He spent a lot of time talking to the other secretaries and assistants, getting the secretarial pool organized and getting a database set up, and a research library. (This was mostly going to involve collating all of the sub-teams databases and libraries.) There were a few of them who seemed to have a problem with him, though they never said anything, but most of them didn’t seem to mind having him in charge.

 He also spent a lot of time talking to Kanaya Maryam who wore a lot of hats, most of them related to being some combination of a personal assistant, a lady in waiting and a seneschal to the Heiress. (Her actual title was Chatelaine.) She was extremely helpful, and dropping her name seemed to make bureaucratic obstacles disappear. (“Nothing cuts red tape like a chainsaw!” Pyrope said cheerfully when he’d mentioned it.)

Attempting to keep up with his old duties, the newest investigation and his new duties made him lose track of the time, so he was a little startled when Pyrope dropped his new license and I.D. on the keyboard. “Congratulations,” Pyrope said cheerfully. “You are now officially a forensitech!”

Dave picked up the license and the I.D. He smiled up at her and then tucked them both away in his coat pocket. “Thanks boss,” he said.

“There’s going to be a little team party in one of the rec blocks in our section,” Pyrope continued. “It will be two nights from now unless the bad news prevents it.”

“Bad news?” he asked, but that was mostly a delaying action as he remembered his appointment. “I’m getting scanned tomorrow,” Dave said.

Pyrope nodded. “We can postpone the appointment, if you want?” She looked worried and oddly hesitant, not an expression that really fit his image of her.

“Tempting offer, boss, but I’m just going to have to _man up_ and go through with it,” Dave said.    

 “Okay,” Pyrope said. “When was the last time you took a break?” She asked suddenly.

 Dave frowned, because he couldn’t actually remember. “Um.”

 "Go take a break,” Pyrope said. “An hour.”

 Dave wanted to protest that he still had things he needed to do, but allowed Pyrope to shoo him out of the office. He wandered the corridors for a few minutes before heading into the rec block. He got himself a soft drink and some snacks from the thermal hull and grabbed one of the books from the box on one of the counters. It was a cheesy tie-in of an equally cheesy troll science fiction series.   

 Agneta and Pyrati came into the rec block while he was settling down to read the book. They immediately homed in on him. “Congratulations one passing the exam,” Agneta said.

 “What grade did you get?” Pyrati asked.  

 “Thanks, boss,” Dave said. “I scored about ninety percent.”

 “Quidam!” Agneta said with a smile. “Or you could use my first name, you know.”

 “Well I didn’t want it to seem like I was getting above myself or anything,” Dave said.

 Agneta rolled her eyes at him. “I’m _rust_ , Strider. I would have to be a very special kind of idiot to snub someone because I am one very short step _above_ them.”

 “Technically he’s above _us_ ,” Pyrati pointed out. “Boss is teal.” To Dave he said, “If you want, you can use my name too.” His smile turned a little shy. “You could have done that perigees ago.”

 Dave didn’t have a clue of how to respond to that. There was a sudden tight feeling in his chest, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to speak anyway. Whatever he was feeling must have shown on his face and alarmed Agneta, because she was hissing at Pyrati, and Pyrati was apologizing. Maybe Pyrati was apologizing. Dave couldn’t really hear either of them, and didn’t understand why he was standing, or how his chair had gotten knocked over. To add even more fun to the situation, Marcus was standing in the doorway of the rec room staring at him.

 “Mr. Strider, are you all right?” Marcus asked, stepping into the room. Her voice was a kind of underwater sound, for some reason. She didn’t try to come any closer, which was actually a relief. Pyrati and Agneta were getting some distance too, carefully backing away.

_“Do I need to get your moirail, Strider?”_ BB, the helmsman of _Balanced Blade_ asked over the intercom.

 “No!” Dave said. “Please don’t tell Mistress!” It was a stupid thing to say, it wasn’t a request it was even possible to make. He was aware of Marcus stepping closer, asking him if he was all right again. He flinched away from her. Agneta took her by the arm and tugged her back.

_“Everything’s fine, Strider, you’re not in trouble,”_ BB said calmly. His tone was firm and patient. _“Pick up the chair and sit down. Deep breaths Strider.”_

Dave obeyed. “Sorry,” he said after a few minutes of just breathing and trying to get his pulse to stop racing. He tried on a smile but it was weak and strained. “I don’t know what happened there.” Pyrati was giving him a sad, sad dog look, the look of a dog that has been told he has been very bad and his immediate future involves rolled up newspapers. Agneta looked worried and Marcus looked horrified and concerned.

“ _Should_ we get the Boss over here?” Agneta asked. “Because you just now pretty much _teleported_ because Pyrati is a dumbass who is dumb and should shut up forever _._ ” 

Dave laughed at that. “Maybe not that long,” he said. Pyrati was still giving him a sad dog look. “Sorry, Hammal,” Dave said, deliberately using Pyrati’s second name. “I’m glad you consider me a friend.” He was just going to pretend that there hadn’t been an implied flushed thing behind Pyrati’s words and hope that Pyrati was willing to play along.

“It’s okay,” Pyrati said. Then, almost tentatively, “I hope you consider me a friend.”

Dave felt weirdly relieved. “Yeah.” There was an awkward silence, then Agneta returned to the subject of his examination and new license, and Pyrati talked about the party. Marcus sort of hovered until Pyrati drew her into the conversation. She didn’t say very much though, and kept giving him confused and concerned looks that he tried to ignore. They talked until Pyrope showed up with an errand for him that was at least 99.9% make work.

They talked about it, eventually, though it was hard for Dave to explain what happened in the rec block. “I don’t know if it was what he said, or just realizing he was maybe a little flushed for me. It just scared me and I had to get away from the table.”

“I immediately want to say ‘of course he’s flushed for you,’” Pyrope said. “But I think that probably won’t help. Research indicates humans don’t appreciate being told they inspire protective and compassionate feelings.”  

“My swag is already at an all-time low, boss,” Dave said. “I flipped my shit in public.” He wasn’t sure how he was going to address that completely straightforward, _“of course he’s flushed,”_ from Pyrope, though. Pyrati was one of the most persistently friendly and amiable trolls Dave knew. Dave had thought a time or two that Pyrati might be interested in him, which had made him pretty uncomfortable. The troll had never really made any advances though, so Dave had decided that the friendliness and concern was just Pyrati being weirdly social for a troll.   

“Well, we can’t let it get any lower,” Pyrope said. “You’d need a transfusion, and we don’t have any compatible donors!”     

They talked some more after that, mostly skirting around the subject of what about Pyrati’s very mild overture made him flip out. Pyrope also broadly hinted that they could still postpone the scan if he really wanted to. It seemed that she thought that part of the reason for the shit-flipping was worry over the procedure. Dave found himself arguing for the procedure, even though he was tempted to go ahead and postpone. “I should get it over with, like ripping off a bandage,” he said at one point.

Pyrope clicked at him, giving him a concerned look. “Alright. If that’s what you want.”

His sleep that day was restless, but he didn’t have any daymares. In the evening, he read through his e-mail. There was a message from John (and weirdly, Vantas) congratulating him for having passed the exam, some random messages that he’d need to go through later before giving them to Pyrope. There was also a message from Maryam. _“I have a number of possible candidates to add to your secretarial pool at various levels and areas of expertise. Please let me know when you are available, Mr. Strider,”_ Maryam’s e-mail read. Dave went through his schedule and found a block of time that seemed doable and replied to the message with _“I have some free time tomorrow. Would 1500 be a good time?”_

Later in the evening, he and Pyrope took a shuttle to the Steadfast. They didn’t talk very much on the way over. Dave was half tempted to ask if he could still back out, but didn’t. The therapy session with Ariane mostly involved talking about his new duties. Ariane also asked questions about the exam, and some of the things they had talked about during the last session.

After the session, Dr. Telzey entered the office, choosing a chair just to the right of Ariane’s desk. After some small talk, Dr. Telzey gave a brief explanation of what he was going to be doing ending with, “Since you do have some sensitivity and you recently had an encounter with Lady Serket, would you be willing to be sedated? It would make it easier for the both of us.”

Dave thought about that for a moment before nodding. He liked the idea of being drugged as much as he did the idea of being scanned. On the other hand, Pyrope was here. “Okay.”

“Thank you, Mr. Strider,” Dr. Telzey said. He went to a nearby cabinet and took out an envelope and a sealed bottle of water from a cabinet. He handed the bottle and the envelope to Dave. “Take the pill and drink the entire bottle of water,” he said.

After Dave took the pills, he was directed to go lie on the couch. The psycherugeon handed Pyrope a small rubber ball, gesturing for her to pass it to him. “I want you to hold the ball as tightly as you can, Mr. Strider. I’ll begin the scan when you fall asleep and let go of the ball.”

“Yessir,” Dave said, taking the ball. “What happens if I _don’t_ let go of the ball? Hypothetically, I mean.”

Dr. Telzey smiled slightly. “Then we reschedule the appointment as many times as it takes until you are relaxed enough to be scanned.”  

“Okay.” Dave lay back on the couch, squeezing the ball as hard as he could. It was hard rubber, so there wasn’t much give to it. It was fifteen minutes, maybe more before he started feeling the sedative. He started drifting, then startling awake again. It was getting hard to hold the ball, and harder to keep his eyes open (he was wondering why he was trying to). Eventually, the ball slipped out of his fingers and he slid after it.

He woke up slowly, with Pyrope sitting next to him, holding his hand. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Foggy,” Dave said. He looked at the clock and saw that maybe four and a half hours had passed since he’d fallen asleep.

“Do you think you can sit up?”

It took him a few tries, but he managed it. “Now what?”

“We see if you can stand up and walk, and if you can’t, we get you a four-wheeled device.”

“What about the scan?”

“All I know so far is that he confirmed what Vriska said about your ‘mental architecture,’” Pyrope said. “We should get the details in a couple weeks. Then we proceed from there.”    

The sleepy fuzziness from the sedative and the scan lasted for most of the evening. Most of his downtime was spent watching movies with Pyrope or reading discussion threads in the forum. Then he slept, dreaming the kind of dreams where you half wake up convinced you’re late for an appointment. The next evening he was ready to go back to work.   

After catching up on some paperwork, he went out on the shuttle to the _Steadfast_ for his meeting with Maryam. The resource department was a maze of office blocks and meeting areas on the Heiress’ level of the ship. Previous visits had been very brief and mostly involved errands he’d been running for Pyrope so finding Maryam’s office was not a problem. He arrived early, just in time to hear the shouting coming from Maryam’s office. “Kan, you know I have the experience--I am being wasted on light installation and unplugging goddamned toilets!”

_“Mistress Maryam,”_ Maryam corrected icily. “Sixty days from now, if you continue to attend classes and you manage to keep out of trouble--which noticeably you are not!--you can turn in your resume, but not before then.”

“Can’t I just--”

Whatever it was Ampora was going to say was cut off by the roar of a chainsaw. Ampora absconded from Maryam’s office so fast that Dave just barely managed to jink out of the way. Maryam emerged from her office with a thunderous expression, holding a lipstick container in her hand as if it were a very tiny shiv. She gave the direction Ampora went in a hard glare and then spotted Dave. Her expression cleared. “Hello Mr. Strider, I’m sorry about that.”

“What was that about?” Dave asked, wondering where the chainsaw went.

 Maryam sighed. “Ampora has ambitions,” she said shortly. “That’s all I really have to say about it. I have a grub drive containing the profiles of some of the people who’ve expressed an interest in transferring to the legal division,” she said. “I thought it might be a good idea for you get to know a few of them.” 

 The next few hours were spent following Maryam around the Resource Department. Most of the people Maryam stopped to introduce him to were in the green to teal range, and the occasional blue. He was kind of glad that Pyrope had made him sit in on her interviews while choosing the sub-teams and ask questions. It made the little on-the-spot interviews a little easier for him, because he already had practice.  

 Between visits, Dave found himself asking a lot of questions about Ampora. It wasn’t so much concern as it was curiosity. The guy had pretty much hit rock bottom and then dug himself a deeper hole. Maryam didn’t particularly want to answer the questions, but he did worm a few out of her. Ampora was apparently taking Movement ideology classes in between work shifts on the lower levels of the Steadfast. “What concerns you about Ampora’s situation, Mr. Strider?” Maryam asked.

“Nothing, really,” Dave said. “It’s just that he’s an upper level management type, and you got him unplugging toilets.” Then quickly, to avert a possible lecture said, “I get why, the guy’s an asshole, and you don’t trust him or like him and he needs to be taken down a peg or three--but he’s still upper level management.”  

“You think we’re wasting his abilities?” Maryam asked.

“Not exactly,” Dave said. “But I’d stick him with something a little closer to his skill sets, like inventory or research. Something tedious that still gave him something that said he was getting somewhere and I don’t know, makes him feel as if he’s making up for being an asshole.”

“Do you think that’s what he wants to do?” Maryam asked.

Dave shrugged. “Maybe? He went to a lot of trouble to get here, even if he was a complete dumbass about it.”

Maryam gave him a look he couldn’t quite read. “You make some good points, I suppose. But there isn’t  anyone at this point who would be willing to take him on in that kind of capacity. With time, someone might be willing to have him in their division, but not at the moment.” She paused. “Unless you’re indicating you might take him into her division.”

Dave lifted his hands in a “whoa, wait” sort of gesture. “Not exactly. I mean, it’s something I might run by Pyrope but I think she’d say ‘no,’ and I don’t know that I’d be able to keep him on a tight enough leash. He’s still a highblood, even if he revoked his rank and caste and all that shi--stuff.”

“Please do bring it up to Pyrope,” Maryam said. “If she agrees, you can arrange an interview with him to see if he’d fit in with the legal division.”

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was lurking in the Distrait Life of Mistakes rp chat and saw a ridiculously adorable storyline that I had to commemorate as a pale porno. Yes. I Tuckerized an rp and I am not sorry.


	33. In which the Neophyte has a number of conversations and the revolution continues in the background

Dave presented her with the list of people he wanted in the division’s secretarial pool, and she approved his choices. Surprisingly, he also suggested that they bring in Ampora. “You two did not exactly hit it off, Dave,” Terezi said. “Have you made any offers?”

“No, didn’t get a chance to speak to him, he was too busy running away from Maryam’s chainsaw,” Dave said. “I did not know the chainsaw to cut red tape was a literal chainsaw.”

Terezi snickered. “Few people do, until it’s too late,” she said with a grin. In a more serious tone, she said, “do you think you’ll be able to work with him?”

Dave shrugged. “That I don’t know. Would it be okay with you for me to feel him out?”

“Let me clear it with Vriska first,” Terezi said after a few moment’s thought. “She might not like the idea of me having direct authority over Ampora.” Terezi didn’t think Ampora would become a point of contention in their kismesis, but it was always a good idea to check and make sure there wouldn’t be a problem.

“Okay, boss,” Dave said, and the conversation shifted to other subjects, such as the current cases being worked on and how the database project was going, and then he retreated to their quarters while Terezi worked on the recent “Demoness Cult” case (hoping that the scare quotes were completely justified). The package was still being tracked to its source by Security, assisted by one of her sub-teams. The Legislacerator of the team she sent had a strong anomalous gift for psychometry, and a member of his forensic team was a strong prognosticator.     

A few hours later, Pyrati slipped into her office block with definite air of kicked barkbeast about him. “Lady Pyrope, please forgive me for upsetting your moirail,” Pyrati said with a bow. “I realize I should have presented my suit to you first, but I thought since we were already known to each other, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Dave said it wasn’t a problem, so I don’t have a problem,” Terezi said. “I think he was as upset and surprised by his reaction as you were.”

Pyrati’s shoulders hunched. “Boss, he says that, but I know I upset him.”

“Pyrati, he’s had some very bad experiences and they are coming to the surface now,” Terezi said as gently as she could.  

Pyrati twitched guiltily. “I should have realized that.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Terezi repeated. “Just keep being his friend.”

“I will,” Pyrati said, and bowed slightly before excusing himself.

**[ gallowsCallibrator (GC) is now trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

GC: Dave. Dave. Dave.

DS: boss boss boss

GC: [:<

GC: Pyrati still seems to be feeling guilty for what happened a couple days ago. And under the impression I’m old fashioned and managing your heart quadrant.

DS:  the heart quadrant i dont have you mean

DS: because im not a troll

GC: Your nonexistent quadrant! That I am definitely not guarding like a dragon’s hoard! Or like the seadweller princess who made the suitors of her moirail prove their devotion by making them complete impossible tasks!

DS: i am totes a fairytale princess chilling in a tower made of glass watching this dumbass on a hoofbeast made of copper climb straight up the wall

DS: will the hero make it to the top or will he and his hoofbeast plunge into the snake pit

DS: that is legitimately what is happening here

GC: Should I pour boiling oil on his head?

DS: nah no need to add deep fried pyrati to the menu dump him on some nice soft briars and call it a happy ending

GC: Should I discourage him?

DS: i guess i dont think he’ll do anything.

GC: ...

GC: ...

DS: is there a problem boss

GC: Something occurred to me. But I don’t want to ask over Trollian.

DS: okay that doesnt sound ominous at all nope

GC:  It’s not meant to sound ominous.

DS: and yet

DS: asking here is good a place as any

GC: ] : <

GC: Was your reaction because of Pyrati flirting, or was the reaction because you thought I might become jealous because you don’t actually have quadrants?

**[daveStrider (DS) has turned off his computer and left the meeting block!]**

Terezi closed the message window. “I guess that answers my question.” _I don’t have quadrants and I’m not a troll._ The repeated refrain,as if he were worried that she might forget. And had she? She knew the lines between quadrants were not clear and classically sharp the way they were in romances or dramas. They blurred, they faded, and they turned from one thing into another thing and didn’t always tell you which side of the line you were on. She wasn’t a romantic, the way Karkat and Nepeta were at six sweeps. She knew it was possible to flip quadrants vertically, horizontally and _diagonally_. You literally could not be in a kismesis with Vriska for instance, without the coal getting ashy. Or turning red or whiting out because you were hit by an avalanche of the palest pity.

For Dave, there were no lines at all, just trolls being unpredictable, and conditioning that told him to accommodate and be loyal to his owner. (That last wasn’t quite true and she knew it. Dave did have feelings for her, but they were _human_ feelings, as confusing and alien to her as her feelings for him were to him.) Dave was afraid she’d become jealous, Karkat had specifically questioned her about jealousy, in terms of Dave’s relationship with John. After Dave had ended up in the infirmary, John had become (briefly) uneasy when she saw that he’d been holding Dave’s hand.

It was definitely something to think about, and made certain things she had talked about with the Marcuses much more clear.

She decided not to track Dave down, and went about her usual night. She received a few updates and reports that revealed that wherever he was, he was still doing his job, though he wasn’t in their quarters or his office space. (She received an automated notice that he’d left on a shuttle for _Steadfast_ a few minutes after discreetly checking where Dave was on _Balanced Blade_.) She sent him an e-mail saying that they would talk about it when he was ready. She also reminded him about their next appointment with the therapist. He replied back with a slightly longer message that included an apology, and an explanation. _youre not wrong but even if you dont get jealous its not like i could could contribute in a filial manner im not a troll even if i felt that way even if i could id be a literal dead end for a troll that felt that way about me._

Terezi didn’t know what to say in response to that. She wanted to talk to him about it, reassure him somehow. She didn’t know what would reassure him though _. I wouldn’t say I don’t feel jealousy,_ she wrote back. _I feel envious that your friend John grew up with you. I feel envy that your custodian would marathon your favorite television shows with you when you were small. I wouldn’t begrudge you having a concupiscent relationship if you wanted one. I don’t begrudge you your friendships._

His return e-mail made her laugh a little: _boss you wouldn’t have liked where I grew up, either place. The apartment air conditioning broke down once a week and the White Tank cafeteria food was toxic except for maybe the meatloaf._

Dave spent the day with John. (Dave called her directly to ask permission, John in the background saying something that was apparently annoying in English, because Dave said, _“oh go fuck yourself, John.”_ also in English.) When she returned, their quarters felt strangely empty and entirely too silent in his absence. Terezi had never really felt that way before, and definitely didn’t like it. She tried to keep herself busy and distracted by reading through the forums, but it didn’t really help. She eventually retired to her recuperacoon, and let the sopor drag her down into a restless sleep.

This was one of the few occasions where the cliché was true: Dave looked younger in his sleep, somewhere between gawky and wiry-strong. His sleeping curve was loose and easy; his hands open and relaxed. Terezi realized after moments of watching that the cliché was true because the Dave sleeping curled on the couch was a boy, not an adult. Blue and pink branches waved softly outside the windows of the treehive, with a constant rustling. Terezi realized distantly that she was younger too, her hands and clothes dusted with chalk.

Dave shifted in his sleep, shivering a little, so Terezi pulled up a throw over his shoulders. She heard a footstep behind her. She startled, immediately reaching for her cane as she turned defensively to confront Dave’s brother, gripped by an instinctive dread at the sight of an adult. His hands were up in a placating gesture. She forced herself to relax. “There’s this thing called announcing yourself,” she said waspishly. (Behind her, Dave stirred but continued to sleep.)

Dirk looked amused, and tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “I didn’t think I could sneak up on you. I guess you have a lot on your mind.”

 Terezi glanced back at Dave, feeling oddly guilty. “You should be visiting him, not me,” she said.

 “I do, but he doesn’t listen, and he doesn’t really remember afterward,” Dirk said.

 “He blames himself,” Terezi said. “For what happened to you.”

 “Yeah. Anytime I try talking to him, he sticks his fingers in his ears, and I just end up trolling him.” There was a brief flicker of a smile on the ghost’s face. “Of course, I’d probably troll him even if he wasn’t refusing to listen to me.”

 Terezi couldn’t help but smile in return. “Teasing Dave is basically always hilarious.” In a more serious tone she asked, “is there any message I could relay?”       

 “Tell him it’s not his fault and that it’s okay to be angry that I couldn’t be there for him. Tell him that I’m proud of him.”

 “The usual messages from beyond the grave,” Terezi said. She remembered Equius’ shade speaking through Aradia, apologizing to Nepeta for dying. She remembered a similar conversation between Gamzee and Vriska. (It wasn’t nearly as pale though, and it ended with Nepeta subduing Vriska. Terezi sometimes thought Gamzee had set it up that way on purpose.)

Dirk shrugged. “Nothing like the classics.” He shifted, looking around the room at the drawings on the walls, at her piles of ScaleMates™. “Nice place. I’ll need to talk to your lusus before I can let Dave come over for play dates though.”

“Mom’s pretty okay with me having friends over,” Terezi said. “There shouldn’t be any problems.”

Dirk smiled faintly and said something that Terezi couldn’t quite hear because the alarm was ringing and she had to get up.

She met with Dave in one of the cafeterias on the Steadfast for breakfast. He was a little wary, but relaxed once she reassured him that he wasn’t in trouble. “I absolutely do not object to you doing something like dropping a conversation about something that’s upsetting to you,” Terezi said.

“It wasn’t very professional,” Dave said automatically.

“That was not a professional topic,” Terezi said. “It was only at best tangentially business related since we were talking about a co-worker’s flush crush on you, and your reaction to it.”

“Overreaction,” Dave said in an undertone. “And I ran off.”

Terezi reached out and tapped his hand. “If I’m not going to discipline you about something you couldn’t help, then you aren’t allowed to punish yourself for it either.”

Dave smiled in a way that was startlingly like his brother’s slight, sardonic smile. “If you say so boss,” he said.

“Did you have any memorable dreams last night?” Terezi asked.

_“Non sequitur,”_ Dave said.

“Abrupt subject change implying I _did_ have a memorable dream last night,” Terezi said.

“Not really,” Dave said. “Just the usual daily dose of weird. I had a dream about that indigo from the Demoness case, I was walking along the beach where there was suddenly a homicidal seal-monster. I ran up the beach and into her and she went,” Dave dropped his voice about an octave. “‘Fuck, sorry, didn’t mean to crash your dreamscape, brachiatebro, let me just fuck off out of here.’ Then I woke up.”  

Terezi really and truly hoped that was just a dream. Dave did not need a projective _empath_ wandering around his thinkpan. “I got a visit from your brother,” Terezi said. Dave went still. “We agreed that teasing you was the best thing ever, and he wants you to know that he’s proud of you.”

“He should be,” Dave said with a shrug. He was trying for bravado, but his voice was a little strained. “I am a goddamn expert in my chosen field.”

“And so modest too! He also said to stop blaming yourself for what happened, and that it was okay to be angry with him, for not being there for you.”

Dave twitched a little at that. “I shouldn’t be. I have no right to be.”

“But you are, and I think you do,” Terezi said. “It’s normal, and so is feeling guilty about it, whether you’re a troll or a human.”

Dave’s mouth tilted slightly. “I think the psychs have gotten to you, boss.”

“I think that is exactly what they’re supposed to do, Dave,” Terezi said.

After breakfast, they paid a brief social call on the Marcuses that mostly involved scheduling the next defense classes, and inviting Mrs. Marcus and her husband to the party.   

* * *

The next few nights were relatively quiet, except for status reports coming in from various stations and outposts. Pro-Movement insurrections were popping up everywhere with variable success rates. Ships of the Heiress’ Fleet were detached to assist. There were a number of assassination attempts among the Senate, evenly distributed among the pro-Movement, Traditionalist, and Universalist factions. A dozen colonies were in revolt in various permutations involving both native resistance and Movement-based insurrection.    

So far, there hadn’t been any major contacts with enemy vessels or signs of Her Imperious Condescension’s Fleet. Minor contacts from the Imperial Fleet were limited to the occasional scout ship or pirate hunters occurred, but only rarely ended with an exchange of fire. Reports placed the Condesce’s Fleet in a variety of locations, none confirmed and many of them on opposite ends of Imperial Space more or less simultaneously. (“Tyrians are not actually bilocational,” Feferi said during the intelligence meeting. “Please get me a confirmed sighting.”)

It was of course, only a matter of time. Terezi and Dave continued to work on emergency drills with the Marcuses, and plans for where to go in case of an attack. They also worked on emergency drills for the core and sub teams.  

Mrs. Marcus continued to be somewhat obstinate about moving her family to Balanced Blade, but Terezi thought she was wearing the human’s objections down, mostly by citing the necessity of having a strong team. “Do Legislacerator teams usually spend so much time in each other’s pockets?” Marcus asked during one of their discussions.

“The basic social unit is a bunch of trolls who have a basic understanding that they are allies. From this you get quadrants, quadrant-corners and “satellites” of acquaintances and allies who may or may not have some kind of relationship with a quadrant or corner. We have to do more work on socialization than humans, especially where there isn’t a central quadrant, so yes, we live in each other’s pockets,” Terezi said. “My hive wasn’t very far from the homes of the rest of my team, though it was in a slightly more affluent area. If we’d stayed on-world Coiver probably would have found a hive not very far from mine.”

“I see,” Mrs. Marcus said. “I’ll think about it. I’d still prefer to commute.”

Also during this time, Terezi and Dave began visiting Sollux and Jade on a regular basis. The visits started shortly after Sollux was cleared to go online. His first message to Terezi was to complain about physical therapy and not being allowed to use helm technology. _they 2tiill won't let me iinterface thii2 ii2 bull2hiit, ii_ _had two type thii2 me22age wiith my hand2,_ he’d written. He had asked her questions about things he was beginning to remember, and she’d suggested that she and Dave could visit. He’d replied with, _ii gue22 you and your moiiraiil could come over a2 long a2 he doe2n't try two do slam poetry or 2omethiing we could play computer game2._

Terezi had written back, _JUST L1K3 OLD T1M3S! 3XC3PT 1 W1LL NOT B3 4BL3 TO FL1RT W1TH YOUR MO1R41L B3C4US3 YOUR OLD MO1R41L 1S MY M4T3SPR1T_ she had been more than a little nervous about the joke once she’d sent it, but she was relieved by a familiar _eheheheheheh_ from Sollux who wrote back, _ii u2ed two giive her 2o much 2hiit about that 2oooo much 2hiit._

The visits usually involved playing computer games until late in the day, and talking about random things. Jade Harley reminded Terezi a little of both Aradia and Feferi, and it was very clear that she and Sollux had a very strong moirallegiance. (Both seemed very reluctant to call it that however.) Harley and Dave seemed to hit it off despite the differences in their backgrounds. (On the other hand, both had been raised by somewhat eccentric male relatives, so perhaps that was a connection point, like two trolls bonding over having had lusii of the same species.)

* * *

Terezi’s therapy session with Ariane ended up being slightly longer than Dave’s because Ariane asked a great many questions about the visitation Terezi had experienced. The joint session mostly involved bringing up a lot of uncomfortable subjects followed by a very detailed presentation of the damage done to Dave’s brain by Hipidi Hastur. Dave’s “base conditioning” from his training and been tampered with, and then Hastur had tried to “fix” the problem by installing behavior modification guilt loops intended to make him more biddable. (The only thing they noticeably did was make Dave shut down and become completely passive if they were triggered.)   

“The first step is dismantling those behavior modification loops with a combination of therapy and psychic surgery,” Telzey said at the end of the presentation. “The latter will require some downtime.”

“Understood,” Dave said, his voice cracking a little. “How long, and when?”

“That depends on a variety of factors, Mr. Strider,” Ariane said. “This will be a continuing process, and we can only proceed at your pace.”

Dave’s jaw tensed. “I just want to get it over with,” he said, voice strained.

“Trying to ‘fix you’ by simply rummaging around in your head and changing things would do more harm than good,” Dr. Telzey said. “We could do that, completely reprogram you, but you wouldn’t be Dave Strider anymore. No one wants that, so we must move slowly and carefully to rebuild your sense of self.”


	34. In which Dave is counseled by his human palebro and his human palebro’s Significant Other, and there is another party

He wasn’t sure how he ended up on the shuttle, wasn’t sure how the shuttle ended up in _Steadfast’s_ docking bay, or how John knew to be there. Dave didn’t have a tracer on him, hadn’t had one in sweeps because he had never been a flight risk except for now. (Not that he was running very far at all.) Some part of him was screaming that he was in so, so much trouble right now, even if he knew he wasn’t. “I’m sorry for absconding,” Dave said immediately. “I’m reporting for discipline.” It was the first thing that came to mind to say and he was endlessly relieved that John just went along with it.

“Well, you’re reporting for discipline, so your punishment is detention,” John said cheerfully, and took the husktop he’d been clutching to his chest during the entire shuttle ride. “Follow me.”

“Detention” turned out to be in the Heiress suite. John let him set up a temporary office area in a corner of the meeting block. John didn’t ask what had happened and he didn’t hover, though Dave could hear him puttering around in the hivesuite’s kitchen. Dave did his usual work, and every so often John would poke his head out of the kitchen and ask him random questions about what he was doing. Dave kept his responses brief because he was busy, (was trying to be busy) but John had a talent for diverting him with random stories about working for the Heiress and his relationship with Karkat.  

After a while, Dave decided to see what John was up to in the kitchen. “Troll sushi!” John said when Dave asked. “Well okay, human style sushi using troll-type ingredients. It’s for lunch, want to help?”

He’d completed most of his early evening tasks, so he shrugged and helped make sushi rolls with weird blue seaweed, pale lavender rice analog and smoked blue troll salmon and bits of weird colored vegetables. “Do you usually get KP duty?” Dave asked as he started cutting up a sushi roll into sections.

“Feferi usually takes a turn when she’s stressed out,” John said. (It was weird as hell hearing John be so casual about using the Heiress first name, Dave still wasn’t used to it.) “Cooking really calms her down! Karkat is a mediocre cook but is really good at prep work so he usually does that.” John glanced up at Dave. “Since the Legislacerator is blind, I guess you do most of the cooking?”

“I do most of the calling for delivery,” Dave said. “I heat up a pretty mean frozen dinner though.”    

“Heh.” John regaled Dave with completely random stories about various cooking adventures with Karkat and Feferi. There were also stories about poisoning attempts and one about a banquet that more or less became a foodfight because of a debate turning violent. “...I had a lot of fun with that one; it was completely worth the chewing out I got later! The Senator totally deserved the rhubarb raisin pie to the face.”

Once the sushi was staged on covered platters, Dave helped load the food cart, and John headed off to wherever the Heiress was. After John left, Dave went back to work on his various duties and assignments. When he checked his e-mail, he saw that Pyrope had sent him a message. _This would be why I wanted to wait_ it began. _Though maybe there wouldn’t have been a good time to confront the issue that we are both sidling around as if it might decide to stomp on us suddenly. We should talk about this, and we will, but only when you’re ready._

They wrote back and forth in that vein for a while before eventually wandering off onto more work-related subjects. He also got a note from Tin Soldier. _Balanced Blade indicated you were having difficulties, so I sent a direct message to your friend John. Hope that wasn’t too nosy of me._

 _No, it’s okay,_ Dave wrote back. _I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been waiting for me. Thanks._

He was requesting an update on the database project when he heard someone enter the quarters. He looked up, expecting John, but instead it was Vantas, dressed in his Signlessist robes, a very tired looking Vantas, who blinked blearily at him. Dave immediately stood up and bowed. “Sir, the Vice Security Chief assigned me ‘detention’ in the Heiress’ suite for absconding from _Balanced Blade_. Is there anything you require, sir?”

Another blink. “Did he also tell you to play attendant, Strider?”

“No sir, it just seemed like the thing to do.”

Vantas grunted and settled into a dark pink blobby looking recliner of some kind. “Coffee, then. And see if there’s any leftovers to heat up. If you haven’t eaten anything yet, get yourself something too.” A pause. “And bring it all here. No hiding in the food prep block.”

“Yes sir,” Dave bowed again and headed into the food preparation block. He made coffee and heated up two plates of left overs. After a little more scrounging around he found a cookie sheet to use as a platter and loaded the food, coffee and his own drink onto it. He carried it into the meeting block, and set everything down on a low table.

He felt a little uneasy about just sitting down on the couch and taking one of the plates. It wouldn’t have bothered him if it had been John, or Terezi, or any of her team. Vantas was still an unknown quantity, and Dave wasn’t sure how to interact with him. It didn’t help that Vantas was some kind of religious leader, specifically of the religion that Bro had belonged to. (The last was probably the worst--or at least the most uncomfortable--part.) Dave obeyed, sitting down on the couch and starting to eat.

“So, bearing in mind it’s not actually my business, since I’m not actually one of your official meddlers, what happened?” Vantas asked after a few minutes of quiet.

“I absconded while being questioned by Legislacerator Pryope,” he said. “Sir.”

“Was it an argument, Strider?” Vantas asked. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he added.

“We didn’t argue,” Dave said. And that was really all he was willing to give, right now.

“John ever tell you how we got together?” Vantas asked.

“He said he took a bullet for the Heiress,” Dave said, wondering where this conversation was going. “Didn’t really go into details.”

“He saw a flash and knocked her down, getting shot in the process. It gave Feferi a very bad moment, because it reminded her of how one of our friends died,” Karkat said. “She administered first aid while everyone else was having hysterics or going after the shooter. She ordered us to have John sent to the ship, she wanted to tend to him herself. Egbert was extremely confused when he woke up, but managed to get his wits together pretty quickly. They were pretty well on their way to being friends by the time I checked up on them.” A brief, reminiscent grin. “It took me a while to decide how I felt about that. He managed to annoy me because he pushed almost constantly, and he seemed like an opportunist and I didn’t trust him.” Vantas looked up for a moment. “For a while I thought he was my Serendipitous kismesis.”

Dave wasn’t sure what to say to that. He poked at the contents of his plate. “What made you change your mind, sir?”

“What made you decide to be friends with John?” Vantas asked.

“He just kept following me around, nagging at me to do stuff with him,” Dave said. “He talked to me a lot and dragged me to rec to watch movies with him. I’d insult him or tell him to go away, and he’d just laugh at me.”

“Looks like we have something in common then,” Vantas said. “John was ridiculously friendly and seemingly completely oblivious to my aggravation with him. It took me a while to realize the goofball act was a ruse.” Vantas snorted. “Mostly a ruse, anyway; I made an overture and he didn’t even realize I was making one until I spelled it out for him.”

“I made him explain the concept of Serendipity twice and side tracked him into a conversation about Wyrrd,” John said as he entered the meeting block. He stepped behind the pink recliner and leaned against the back, reaching out to ruffle Vantas’ hair. The troll responded by swatting at John half-heartedly. “Then I asked really stupid questions about quadrants and escaped when my second-in-command came to my rescue.”

“Then Feferi decided to add his command to Security and we ended up working together,” Vantas said.

“And Karkat realized we have nothing to be rivals about because we are both friendleaders.” John said this with completely earnest sincerity.  

Vantas rolled his eyes, and Dave couldn’t help the snort of laughter. “Friendleader” was how John usually referred to being the dorm leader, back at White Tank. “Friendleaders. That brings back memories.” Memories of John shouting things like, “ _I’m in charge of this dorm, but my real job is to be everyone’s friend and help them not fuck up!”_ in people’s faces, and _“Friends help each other by making sure no one else gets in trouble or causes trouble!”_ and _“Your friendleader is telling you to stop fucking up!”_

John grinned. “I was the best dorm leader, it was me,” he said. The conversation drifted to White Tank briefly, then wandered back into the direction of working for the Heiress. Karkat occasionally interjected with questions or comments of his own.

It was starting to get late enough that Dave was thinking of going back to Balanced Blade and facing the music. John however talked him into spending the day. Dave called up Pyrope and tried to ignore John’s comments about sleepovers and playdates. Pyrope told him he was free to spend the day and that they’d have breakfast in one of Steadfast’s cafeterias in the morning. Dave ended the call and settled back onto the couch. 

The conversation continued, with John and Karkat slowly drawing the story of what happened a few nights ago out of him. “I feel stupid for overreacting,” Dave said once he finished. He and John were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch.

“You weren’t being stupid,” Karkat said.

“But I was overreacting?” Dave asked, not able to keep the flippant tone out of his voice after most of the day talking with them both.

“Pff. That isn’t something we’re worried about,” John said cheerfully. He waved his hand as if dismissing the possibility. “You reacted the way you reacted.”

So magnanimous. He possibly said that out loud, because John snickered.

“I know! I am the most magnanimousest!”

“You’re the most ridiculous,” Karkat retorted. “As much as it pains me to admit it though, he’s right. There is no ‘over,’ you just reacted.”

It was pretty late or pretty early by the time Dave got to bed. Dave slept in one of the suite guest rooms, a room big enough to be its own little studio apartment. His dreams were restless, but not really nightmares. He dreamed about Pyrope dressed in her FLARPing costume with a white and red ScaleMate™ tucked under her arm as she strode briskly onto the sanded floor of a courtblock. Then he was walking down a beach and something like a cross between some kind of baboon and an elephant seal came up out water and chased him up the beach and straight into the indigo troll from the Demoness case.

She caught and steadied him, then yelled up at the white seal-monster (her lusus?), which had skidded to a stop, towering over both of them. The seal-monster roared and the indigo roared back for a while, then the huge creature sulked back down the beach. The indigo huffed a laugh, and patted his back. “Fuck, sorry, didn’t mean to crash your dreamscape, brachiatebro, let me just fuck off out of here,” she said with a worried frown. She let him go, and he woke up.  

After taking a quick shower and getting dressed, he headed to the cafeteria where he was meeting up with Pyrope. He was a little nervous at first, because of the way he had absconded the evening before, but Pyrope wasn’t upset with him at all. She reassured him that he wasn’t in trouble, and they ended up talking about dreams. Pyrope had gotten another visitation from his Bro, and relayed a message;

_“He wants you to know he’s proud of you. He also said to stop blaming yourself, and it’s okay to be angry with him for not being there for you.”_

Somehow, it hurt hearing that, it hit hard and left him with nothing to do but deflect. It was too big, too impossible for Dave to process, just then. He pretended that he hadn’t been hit at all, that, _I’m proud of you,_ didn’t make him want to scream, that _don’t blame yourself_ didn’t make him want to cry. Pyrope played along, though she went serious on him in the end. Telling him that it was okay to feel angry, to feel guilt about what had happened.  

* * *

 

They had the party in the hivesuite on _Balanced Blade_. It mostly involved watching forensic procedural dramas and making fun of them. Dave felt a little less awkward this time around, though he still wasn’t used to interacting as a guest instead of an attendant. During previous team social events, even the more recent ones he had felt as if he were at least partially on duty. This time around, he was not just participating, he was the reason there was a party. He kept expecting to get in trouble for overstepping or being insubordinate, but it never happened.

Between movies, the conversation went all over the place, with Pyrope making an obvious effort to draw Marcus into the conversation. “College was a long time ago for me,” Marcus said at one point, when Pyrope asked a question about schoolfeeding. “And not nearly as exciting as some of the things I’ve been hearing today.”

“We must seem like wigglers to you,” Coiver said. “Since your schoolfeeding was so long ago.”

“Well, not wigglers,” Marcus said, reddening slightly. “More like very enthusiastic recent graduates.”

“Are you having trouble keeping up?” Coiver asked with a faint, challenging smile.

Marcus’ brows rose. “Of course not, Mr. Oghami,” she said. She paused as if thinking about it. “I do feel as if I am an _underpaid babysitter_ sometimes.”

 Mr. Marcus snorted at that, and Coiver tried to get Dave to translate, but he refused. “No can do boss,” he said. The phrase doesn’t translate into Alternian at all.”

It took a while to get into the flow, to relax. Borrowing some of his stage persona seemed to help. D. Stri could mouth off, joke around, and get into conversations that ruffled feathers. The party started being fun, instead of small talk hell. He mostly interacted with Agenta, Pyrope and Axumen, while Pyrope mostly talked to him, Coiver and the Marcuses. Pyrati sort of hung around at the edge until Dave deliberately drew him in. “It’s okay Hammal, I don’t think you’re going to bite,” he said.    

“I just wanted to give you some space,” Pyrati said, sitting a little closer.

“While helicoptering?”

Pyrati looked embarrassed and started to get up. “Sorry--” he began.

Dave caught him by the arm, which was all kinds of improper, but Dave didn’t not actually care. “Sit down, Hammal,” he said. Pyrati, startled, sat. “It’s okay. I said we were friends, okay?”

Pyrati gave Pyrope a furtive look (which she obviously ignored), and said after a deep breath, “yeah.”

“So we’re friends. If you want to talk more about what happened, we can do that later, right?” Dave asked.

“If you’re sure it’s okay,” Pyrati said, giving Pyrope another glance.

Dave tried very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yes I’m sure it’s okay. Now let’s talk about something other than my complete loss of cool a while ago.”

“How about your complete loss of cool when I startled you when you came back from the Demoness case interview?” Agneta asked impishly. “I thought it was hilarious.”

“Wow, how about no...”

After another movie and some more conversation, the party drew to a close. Dave had the job of saying goodbye to everyone at the door while Pyrope straightened up the meeting block. It made him feel a little weird, not uncomfortable exactly, just weird. It wasn’t an “at last I am part of the team,” feeling, because Pyrope had pretty much always treated him that way. It wasn’t an apprehensive “am I acting above myself?” feeling either. It was undefinable, and maybe a little of both.

Once everyone had left, he wandered back into the meeting block, and slumped onto the couch, resting his head against the back. “Tired, Dave?” Pyrope asked.

“Yeah, a little.” He thought about it for a minute and asked, “how’d I do?”

“You did fine,” Pyrope said, and sat down beside him. “If parties were subjects that required tests, you’d get very high marks, I’m sure.”

“You don’t even know boss,” Dave said. “Where I come from we take these little soirees seriously. Us debutantes have to learn how to throw the perfect cotillion by the time we’re eight.”

“That sounds extremely rigorous! Still, I think it’s more important that we had fun.” Pyrope nudged him a little, and took his hand in hers. “So, did you?”

“Yeah. It was fun,” Dave said.

 

* * *

 

**[ gunneryGnostic is now trolling daveStrider!]**

GG: hi! can i be a little nosy?

DS: depends on what about do you plan on grilling me about confidential information

GG: maybe! im a little curious about your boss. your owner?

DS: either works if its actually about serket specifically what she sees in her i have no idea john security vice chief egbert also likes serket but he also likes horrible action adventure heroes with fake texan accents

GG: heeheehee! well i guess if they are kismeses there must be something hateable in that special way for them!!!

GG: but i specifically wanted to ask questions about lady pyrope! and also you, i guess! since youre coming over later today!!

DS: okay but only if this exchange of information goes both ways

 


	35. In which there are a number of conversations concerning quadrants, socialization, and a certain abdicated princeling

The next therapy sessions were going to involve working directly on the behavior mods. Dave was not happy about this and even less happy about having to explain why. He sat hunched in his chair, not looking at either of them. “Okay you said before that the structures in place were a part of me now. I don’t see how undermining them helps me.”

“Removing the structures would do more harm than good, yes.” Ariane said. “What Dr. Telzey is going to do is help you to control how the structures make you act and react.” She indicated Terezi with a nod. “The Legislacerator began the first stages of deprogramming you by working on the parameters of your conditioning.”

“Yeah, but that was mistress doing that.” He paused for a second, glancing up at Ariane. “I was trained to accommodate the preferences of my owner.”

“Would it help if I gave Dr. Telzey authority over you?” Terezi asked.

Dave twitched a little at that, glancing up over his glasses at her. “Thanks boss, but I’d rather not.”

“Lady Pyrope, would you feel comfortable giving Mr. Strider away like that?” Ariane asked.

It was Terezi’s turn to twitch. Putting it that way made her feel defensive, almost angry. “No, I wouldn’t,” she said, trying to keep her tone even.

The therapist smiled thinly in response then turned to Dave. “Mr. Strider, when you worked for Orland, was your loyalty primarily to him, or to the business that leased your services?”

“My primary loyalty is to my owner, not the person or business who is leasing my services,” Dave said.

“So that’s also a reason why the Legislacerator’s suggestion wouldn’t work,” Ariane said. “Is there any other way we could make you feel more comfortable about the procedure, Mr. Strider?”

“Comfortable while someone is rummaging around in my head,” Dave said.

Ariane smiled slightly. “Relatively comfortable.”

Dave sighed and rubbed his face, knocking his shades slightly askew then readjusting them. “Just have Pyrope in the room, I guess,” he said. “She can hold my hand and look concerned while Dr. Telzey pokes my brain meat.” Despite the apathetic tone, he straightened in his chair and reached out to put his hand over Terezi’s.

She reversed the grip and smiled. “Dave, I would do a lot more than hold your hand and look concerned!” Terezi said. “I’d also tell you everything was going to be all right!”  

Dave smiled in return. “That will be all kinds of reassuring, I’m sure, boss.”

After more talk about the procedure, they went to Dr. Telzey’s office block. Dave took the sedative offered, then laid down on the couch. Terezi sat beside him, and he held her hand tightly. When he fell asleep and his grip finally loosened, she told the psycherugeon and he began the procedure.

It was a little unnerving watching the psycherugeon work with Dave. Dr. Telzey would ask questions or give directions, and Dave would respond in a wooden monotone, his eyes still closed. At certain points Ariane would step in and ask Dave how he felt. She’d also ask him to repeat numbers, if he knew where he was, and the names of people he knew. At those points, emotion would enter his voice, but it was almost _more_ disturbing because he was obviously still asleep.

The procedure took about three hours, and Dave slept another two. He woke up groggy and complained muzzily about still feeling tired.

“Yes, well, you did a lot of work tonight,” Terezi said. “Do you think you can walk?”   

“Gimme a minute,” Dave said. He slowly levered himself upright, then shakily rose to his feet. He stretched, yawned and took a few experimental steps. “Yeah, I think I can make it.”

Terezi still couldn’t help but hover on their way to the shuttle. Dave swayed a bit as he walked, and he still seemed a little sleepy, though in good spirits. “How are you feeling?” She asked at one point.

“I’m good, a little tired, but good,” Dave said. “I don’t really feel any different though.”

“I am not sure that it’s an instantaneous thing, like a downloaded software update, Dave,” Terezi said.

“Heh. Isn’t that what it is though?” Dave asked. “I mean, it’s pretty implicit in the ‘deprogramming,’ right? Not that I’m saying I’m literally office equipment.”

“If you were I’d be more than a little worried,” Terezi said. “And by more than a little worried, I actually mean alarmed.”

Dave laughed at that.

The return trip to Balanced Blade was uneventful, and the rest of the night involved watching movies and talking, before going to bed. Dave’s sleep was disturbed during the day, restless but never reaching the point of dayterrors. He was still a little sleepy when he woke up in the evening, so she gave him a rest night. He complained about it, but the complaints were mostly for show because he went back to sleep before she went to the main office onboard the ship.

The night was uneventful except for reports on successfully completed cases. She returned a little earlier than usual and headed for the ablution block. On the way out, she heard Dave laugh. “Seriously? You’re asking me for moirail advice?” Terezi saw that the door to Dave’s block was open, and he was sitting at his desk console, his back to the door. Fully aware she was eavesdropping, she hovered by the door, listening.

“Is there another human guy I know with a moirail?” Jade asked. “Not counting whatever Vice Security Chief Egbert and his partners are doing.”

“They are doing old married gay dude couple things. At least Vantas and Egbert are,” Dave said. “I don’t know or care what either of them are doing with the Heiress.”

“Old married polyamorous trio things!”

“No, Jade, no,” Dave said with a groan. “I said I don’t know or care. That means I don’t even want to _speculate_. Let’s talk about moirallegiance, not rumored and probably not true at all quadrant mixing shenanigans.”

“Pff. Okay, we won’t talk about the totally not true at all shenanigans,” Jade said. “I’ll just ask random prying questions! Like, um,” Jade paused, obviously thinking about it. “How did she let you know how she felt?”

Dave was quiet for a moment. “That’s kind of a complicated story,” Dave said. “I didn’t know she was having feelings toward me, not really. Which was kind of dumb in retrospect. The short version is that I scared the crap out of her, then she scared the crap out of me, and declared me a total pale stud.”

“What scared her? And what scared you? Or should I not ask?”

“Not ask,” Dave said. “It was kind of complicated and personal.”

“Oh,” Jade said in a sort of thoughtful, “I’m sorry” voice. “How long have you worked for her?”

“Almost a sweep now. How long have you been working with Captor?”

“About three sweeps! I was hired--with great reluctance!--after the last biotech was culled with extreme prejudice. It was a while before Ep, I mean Sollux felt secure enough to talk to me. I’d just talk to him while I worked--heh--his first words to me were ‘do you ever shut up?’”

“That sounds romantic. The romantiquest.”

“Pff! I am reliably informed that it _was_ romantic. There are apparently a number of rom coms that rely on a pairing between a terminally grumpy person and a terminally cheerful one! So there.”

“Your shit is so canon, in other words,” Dave said with a faint grin in his voice.

“Well, maybe,” Jade said with a thoughtful pause. “Leijon seems to think so! I like Sollux a lot, and I love working with him, and would adore working _for_ him, but I don’t know if I want to be considered _married_ to the guy.”

“I know, right, especially with no wedding,” Dave said. “Takes all the fun out of it.” Dave paused for a moment, then said, “Pyrope’s team were acting like me and her were totally newlyweds before she even said anything.”

“What do you think they were seeing that you didn’t?” Jade asked.

“Apparently my pale swag,” Dave said. “Except there was no telltale fall of white flower petals or swelling music like in the movies.”

“Heh! Maybe it’s only something you can see if you’re watching it happen!” Jade said. “There must have been something that made them think, ‘gee they’re kinda pale with each other!’”

“Maybe there was. I didn’t notice anything. I was just doing my job at first. She was curious about me, but I figured that it was because I was exotic and alien to her or whatever,” Dave said. Then he turned away from his console to look back at Terezi “Hey Jade, give me a second?” he asked. “Boss? Did you need something?” His tone was very bland, and he didn’t say a word about the eavesdropping. He didn’t have to.

“No, the door was open and I overheard you talking with Jade.” It was not much of an excuse. “I would apologize for eavesdropping, but I am not actually sorry. Also, you are totally a pale mess.”

“Well, I did have the door open. I guess you could grab a chair, if you wanted boss and join our little coffee klatch,” Dave said, sounding amused

“Only if it’s okay with Harley,” Terezi said. A quick conference revealed that no, Jade didn’t mind about Terezi joining in, so she went into the office block and grabbed a chair, bringing it back to Dave’s room.

“Hello, Legislacerator!” Jade said.   

“Hello Biotechnist Harley!” Terezi grinned. “I overheard your conversation and wanted to butt in.”

* * *

The indigo ruffianannihilator lurked at the edges of the defense class with the Marcuses. It was not particularly ominous or threatening to Terezi, but it was very noticeable and obviously unnerving to the Marcuses. Terezi called a break after a while and wandered over to where Kerres Kappra was lurking. “We haven’t had any updates on the case, Lieutenant Kappra,” Terezi said politely.

 The indigo snorted. “I know when your office hours are, legal sister. If I had any questions about the case, that’s when I’d be asking them.”

 “How else may I help you then?” Terezi asked.

 “Did a crow tell a sister about a dream he had?” Kappra asked.

 Terezi frowned. “He did, but I _hoped_ it was only a dream and not an indigo wandering.”

  Kappra shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “Yeah, no. It wasn’t anything I did to a purpose, but it was a thing that happened. Happens. I don’t always end up in my own thinkpan when I’m coming back down from cat and squeakbeast territory.”

“You’re in a sensor gestalt?” Terezi asked. She was slightly impressed by this. The Heiress’ Fleet regulations stated that anyone with a high enough empathy or telepathy rating and a wide enough range had to spend time in a gestalt array doing long distance scanning with prognosticating psychics. Indigos were usually fairly narrow-range, though if her rating were high enough, maybe that compensated.   

“Yeah,” Kappra said. “Just every few days when I’m not with my squad. They switch me out with a telepath chica who isn’t as hard on prognosticating thinkpans. I always try to meet up with anyone whose head I end up in, to apologize and maybe see if there was a reason I ended up there.”

“Is there often a reason?” Terezi asked.

“Sometimes,” Kappra said. “I’ve helped a brother or sister out once in a while. Sometimes I might find a friend. Serendipity turns up where it will, you know? Do you mind if I talk to your pale bro, Legislacerator?” There was something a little challenging in the indigo’s tone.

Terezi smiled a little. “I don’t mind, you’re a client and a member of the Movement. The only issue is that high blood interest is a bit unnerving without proper introductions.”

Kappra made a grumbling sigh noise that she probably learned from her lusus. “Or with. Well introduce me, and I’ll try not to scare anyone.”  

Terezi walked back with Kerres Kappra in tow. She made introductions all around and after everyone had exchanged greetings, said, “Dave, Kappra has some things she’d like to talk to you about that incident a few nights ago.”

Dave nodded, hiding his slight apprehension fairly well. “Okay, boss,” he said and turned to the indigo. “Lieutenant Kappra? Where would you like to speak?”

“Just over there’s fine,” Kappra said, indicating a spot by the concession area. Dave nodded again, and followed after the indigo.

“What incident?” Selene asked, glancing uncertainly in the direction where Dave and the indigo had gone. “I’m sorry for prying but--”

“It’s a private matter between Dave and the lieutenant,” Terezi said. “Your concern is understandable but not really warranted by the situation. The high blood doesn’t mean any harm.”

“I’m sorry,” Selene said again. She glanced back toward where Dave and the indigo were talking. “I realize that wasn’t exactly appropriate.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think you were making any moves on my moirail,” Terezi said lightly. “Let’s go over some useful codes you and your husband should remember if you need emergency access to an area of the ship.”

Dave and the indigo’s conversation lasted until after the sparring session. The Marcuses left for their quarters and Pyrope went to the concession area, got snacks for herself and Dave and found a place to sit that was just out of earshot. Their conversation had gone into interesting territory, judging by general sense of amusement-interest-surprise she was getting from them. The conversation eventually came to an end, the indigo heading out of the gym and Dave approaching the table. “The Lieutenant plays the same kind of drums the Heiress does,” he said and sat down across from her.

“You talked about music?” Terezi asked, and pushed over one of the drinks and a basket of fried tuber strips topped by a spicy meat stew and shredded milk fat.

“Yeah,” and snagged a few tuber strips to eat. “She apologized for stumbling around in my head and we ended up talking about music and the poems Nitram posted.”

“Do you think you might want to talk with her again?” Terezi asked.

“Well that would be up to her, wouldn’t it?” Dave asked.

“Evading,” Terezi said.

“Nope,” Dave said. “Unwillingness to risk acting above myself. Unless you’re asking me to keep an eye on the Lieutenant because she’s a client?”

“Ariane has suggested that we should expand your social horizons. I happen to agree.”

“With a high blood officer,” Dave said in a very bland voice.

“With another member of the Movement, who is also a client,” Terezi pointed out. “You should have contacts and acquaintances outside the team. For instance, you were on good terms with the security detachment assigned to Marcus and her family. And you’re getting along very well with Jade Harley!”

Dave hesitated a moment before responding. “Yeah, I was, but, a lot of people, human or not, won’t want to socialize with me.”

Terezi thought about that for a moment. She could tell him that something like that would be true no matter what, but she didn’t think that would actually be helpful. “Did DJ D. Stri socialize during his gigs?” she asked.

“Yeah, but that was me being entertainment,” Dave said.

“Is being entertainment very much different from being entertaining in a social setting?” Terezi asked.

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment and then laughed a little. “Maybe it isn’t,” he said. “I’ve been a little active in the forums, but I guess I can try meeting up with people.”

There was a slight, unspoken, _if that’s what you want,_ in the statement. Terezi decided to ignore it. They talked some more, and then took the shuttle back to Balanced Blade. When they returned to their suite, Terezi read reports and Dave retreated to his respite block. After a while she heard bits and pieces of music as Dave worked on a mix.

Terezi was about to start working on her correspondence when she received a direct call from Vriska. “Kanaya told me your moirail wanted Ampora reassigned to your secretarial pool,” Vriska said without preamble.

“Not exactly!” Terezi said. “Dave noted that it wasn’t a good use of resources to have ‘upper management’ swabbing decks!”

“Which somehow turned into you taking him on,” Vriska said. “Kanaya made that pretty clear that taking him on was on the table. I don’t know that I’d trust the guy _who shot my matesprit_ to be in charge of him. Or my kismesis.”   

“Well, I wasn’t sure I wanted the guy _who broke into my hive and tried to get into my computer_ on my secretarial pool, but Dave seems willing to let bygones be bygones. And you know damn well you can trust me with your matesprit, I’ve trusted you with mine.”

“That isn’t even close to the same,” Vriska said. “I don’t dislike Aradia the way you dislike Ampora.”

“Point!” Terezi said. “A very good point. But Dave also has a very good point. As another point, frankly, I would like to be able to keep a closer eye on Ampora, and I do not want him to become ‘bored’ with his current duties.”

Vriska made an irritated noise. “I can keep a ‘closer eye’ on him. And it’s not like you would give him that ‘upper management’ position, since you don’t ‘trust him.’”

“Not at first anyway!” Terezi said. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not something he couldn’t earn.” She paused. “And you can’t keep a closer eye on him, _you’re his matesprit_. Unless he decided the revoking of alliances meant--”

“No! We’re still matesprits! They keep him too damned busy for me to enjoy sick leave though,” Vriska growled. “And okay there are ‘power dynamic issues’ we still have to resolve. Which is completely dumb and not necessary at all,” Vriska said resentfully. “They don’t whine about power dynamic issues about you and _Dave_.” 

“Just because I don’t complain about it doesn’t mean the subject hasn’t been brought up,” Terezi said.

“And I guess that makes you better because you never complain ever,” Vriska said, sounding a little too much like she had when she was six. This seemed to dawn on her almost instantly. “Shit. _I’m_ the one whining.”

“We’re all really proud when you realize you just said something stupid, Vriska!” Terezi said brightly.

Vriska hissed. “Goddammit you’re not my moirail! And you’re not John! Stop edging pale at me!”

“I am totally not going to tease you about quadrant muddling yourself,” Terezi said. “That is absolutely not what I’m going to do!”

Irritated clicking from Vriska. “Oh shut up, Terecita.” A deep breath. “It would be too much of an insult to tell you that I don’t trust you to be fair,” Vriska said. “But right now that’s what I’m feeling, okay?”

“I think I can try to be fair,” Terezi said. “It would probably be best for me to take him anyway. As the Heiress’ personal Legislacerator I’m outside most of the command chains. And keeping him on Balanced Blade would keep him out of Kanaya and Nepeta’s way.” Terezi really wanted to ask Vriska how she and Nepeta were doing, but that would probably annoy her kismesis in a not very romantic way. Maybe she could ask John, since he seemed to be on good terms with Nepeta as well as Vriska?

“Okay. If he wants to work for you, I don’t have any objections,” Vriska said after a few moments of silence. “I think he’ll take the job, if only because he’s living in terror of Kanaya’s chainsaw.” She sighed. It wasn’t an contemptuous eye roll sort of sigh. It was a fond, _my matesprit is adorably ridiculous_ sort of sigh. As if Vriska honestly couldn’t imagine why anyone would be afraid of her ashmate’s gardening tool.

It was almost cute, but Terezi decided it would be best not to mention it. “I’ll have Dave present the job offer. It will probably be lower level clerk stuff at first, just to see if Ampora can fit in.”

“Right,” Vriska said. A beat. “He isn’t going to be in your quarters like Strider is, is he?”

“Believe me when I say I do not want to share living space with Ampora,” Terezi said. “I can’t promise a full suite, but we’ll get him a cabin or something.”

“Good.” There was a sudden change in demeanor from Vriska, a wicked little smirk. “Speaking of full suites, how about visiting mine?”

“Oooh, Lady Serket, Oooh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teeny tiny veiled reference to Cordwainer Smith's "A Game of Rat and Dragon." If you know the story, you have a basic idea of Kerres Kappra's part time job.


	36. In which the differences between human and troll romance are discussed in part and Dave questions an asset

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to tap that?” Domingo asked skeptically. “Because it definitely seems like you got a thing for her.”

“I am completely fine with not tapping that,” Dave said, not looking up from _Star Empires_. Bro was basically kicking his ass but he wasn’t giving up without a fight. “My thing does not need to be acquainted with her junk.”

“But you’re all cuddly with her,” Domingo protested.

“Moirallegiance requires a lot of intimacy both physical and emotional,” Bro said as he strafed one of Dave’s planets. “Snuggling is a pretty normal expression of that intimacy.”

“Yeah but he’s human and a guy, he can’t just not, _not_ ,” Domingo waved his hands in a confused semaphore. “I mean, just because you had shitty things happen to you doesn’t mean you don’t get horny, and she even said--”

Dave grabbed an unopened beer and lobbed it at Domingo’s head. Unfortunately, Domingo managed to catch it. “Shut the fuck up,” Dave said. “I’m pretty fucking sure she didn’t mean it like that.” There were a lot of other things he wanted to say, angry and vicious, but he kept them back. “She’s pretty much gone out of her way to make it clear I don’t have to entertain her in any way, so shut the fuck up about it.”

Domingo looked guilty and a little put out. “I wasn’t meaning it like that, just that you got it bad for her and--”

“Domingo,” Bro interjected in an even, offhand tone of voice. “Maybe you should just shut up and go smoke outside.”

“Shit, fine,” Domingo got up and stepped outside the apartment, shutting the door with a quiet click as he left.

“I’m dreaming again, aren’t I,” Dave said, just distantly realizing it. He looked around the apartment, which had elements of his respite block from Pyrope’s hive, and the suite on the flagship. He looked at Dirk, who was giving him an eyes-only smile, the game controller set aside.   

“Yeah. Kudos for not panicking this time,” Dirk said dryly. “But you’re waking up. Talk to Megido, it’s the only way we’ll get an actual conversation in.”

“Bro,” Dave said, but whatever he was going to say next, whatever he wanted to say next fuzzed out like static as he came awake. He noticed that his scheduled time to get up was three hours from now. Pyrope was sitting in his chair by the computer console, watching him wake up, a slight smile on her face. Dave truly and sincerely hoped he hadn’t been talking in his sleep. “Evening boss,” he said. And then after a beat, “how was your date with Lady Serket?” This was possibly the worst small talk distraction ever.

“Evening, and it was lots of fun! Stimulating debates and other activities,” Pyrope said. “It may have actually ended a little later than I thought it would. On my way back to my block I overheard you being very irate with someone and decided to check in on you!”

_“Oh my god,”_ Dave groaned. _“Why.”_ He curled up, pulling his covers over his head. He wasn’t too clear on a lot of what happened in the dream, but he remembered the exchange with Domingo, and something about Bro. “Don’t make me talk about it.”

Pyrope papped him, light taps on his head and shoulder. Dave wanted to complain, _I’m not a troll that doesn’t work on me_ , but the papping transmuted to long, firm strokes as she hummed and made a kind of “sh” noise that was weirdly comforting. She didn’t try to pull the covers back down, but she did coax him into straightening out so she could reach his neck, his back, his legs. Dave remembered some of the more salacious scenes from some of the movies they’d watched, a moirail giving their palemate a massage. Dave wanted to make a crack about it, but she might stop if he did, so he lay there and tried not to arch his back like a cat being petted. “I am very curious, but you don’t have to explain what you said,” she said as she worked.

That didn’t help at all. Dave muttered about psychological interrogative mind games, which just made Pyrope laugh at him. Dave groaned again, and pushed the covers down. He started to sit up too, but Pyrope just pushed him back down. “What did you hear me say?”

“Something about your thing and my junk,” Pyrope said. “And you told someone to fuck themselves!”

“I had a dream about a guy I used to work with, Domingo Ruiz,” Dave said. “I knew him for about a sweep and then he was sold somewhere else, as far as I know.” He paused, somehow not really willing to say the words he was thinking. _If that was really him, he’s dead and I never knew about it._ It made him feel weird, the idea of Domingo being dead, and the idea of Domingo haunting him. “Bro was there too. He said something about talking to Megido if I wanted to talk to him.”

Pyrope sat back in the chair, looking thoughtful. “Was this Domingo a hatefriend of yours?”

“Something like that,” Dave said, sitting up. “We didn’t get along, but we hung out when we had time between assignments.”

“And he apparently has an inordinate interest in your non-existent quadrants,” Pyrope said. “Perhaps we should ask Megido to banish him, or at least explain himself and apologize profusely.”

Dave laughed. “Maybe.”

“Aradia is on a mission, but I can leave her a message in one of her drop boxes,” Pyrope said. “If you wanted to go through with contacting your brother, that is.”         

“Yeah, I do,” Dave said after a few moments of silence.

“I’ll send her a message then,” Pyrope said, and rose to her feet. “I’ll be sleeping in, don’t worry about rescheduling anything, I took care of it already.” She headed for her own respite block, the door sliding shut behind her.

Despite feeling relaxed from Pyrope’s impromptu back rub, Dave wasn’t able to fall back to sleep. After tossing around on his bed, head buzzing with bits of the dream and his conversation with Pyrope, he decided to start his evening early. He took a shower, dressed, and then checked his messages while eating yesterday’s leftovers for breakfast.

There was a snarky message from Serket, _(as you can see your moirail is still in one piece!)_ a handful of clients who needed appointments arranged or rescheduled, new comments from a comment thread he was following, two messages from Kerres, who had sent him a random collection of audio samples and a couple mixes. There were also some updates from the ongoing database project, and a message with a resume attached from Ampora.

> _Mr. Strider,_
> 
> _Starting right off, this is probably the worst cover letter ever written. Let’s just put that on the table where everyone can take a look at it before putting it out of its misery. Most of my experience is being senior administration, and an operative for my former sponsor. (Despite recent evidence, I do actually know basic espionage techniques.) I know I am not going to be getting a job I’ll be actually qualified for, but I’m sending you my resume anyway. Just as long as whatever you assign me to do is in the general vicinity of my actual skill sets, I’ll be fine._
> 
> _Eridan, asset, general labor pool, unassigned_
> 
> _P.S. Just so it’s clear, getting shot pissed me off, but the aggravation was completely platonic. I’d compliment your training and loyalty but don’t know if that’d actually be a compliment_ to you _._
> 
> _P.P.S. Is there going to be an actual interview or am I just going to be assigned? Mistress Maryam was not actually very clear on that._

Dave snorted, and read through the resume before writing back: _I guess we could meet. I was going to be signing the necessary documentation and getting your quarters set up a little later in the evening. I’m having lunch at 1400. Can you meet me at the main recreation deck on the flagship? We can get something at the concession area in the gym._ He sent the message and got a response from Eridan within a half hour, confirming the meeting. Then he got messaged by Serket.

**[anarchicGallowglass (AG) is now trolling daveStrider (DS)!]**

AG: Okay, I talked some about this with Pyrope the other day, and I should probably let someone else fuss about this, but I would appreciate it--as a quadrant corner!--if you could keep the hazing to a minimum.

DS: hazing isnt even on the menu mistress serket

AG: General “you” Strider. Make sure it isn’t, since you are in charge of the secretarial pool. Ampora wants to make amends but certain people are making it really fucking hard, not that I actually blame them.

DS: ill see what i can do mistress serket

AG: Serket. Just Serket, tyvm.

DS: 1F 1 D1D NOT KNOW TH4T YOUR LUSUS W4S 4 G14NT SP1D3R 1’D S4Y YOUR MOM W4S OBV1OUSLY 4 MUST3L1D

DS: B3C4US3 B4DG3R1NG

AG: I am not badgering!

DS: Y3S YOU AR3 W3 WONT L3T 4NYTH1NG H4PP3N TO 4MPOR4 YOU DONT N33D TO 3XTR4CT 4NY PROM1S3S FROM 4NYON3 FOR WHAT W’SDFASD.,’DJETU]ADFK

DS: what she said without the keysmash

**[ daveStrider (DS) is “slightly exasperated about the keyboard jacking!”]**

AG: hahahahahahahahahah

“Boss, reading over my shoulder is one thing, but typing is maybe going a little too far,” Dave said as he closed out the messenger window. _Especially with your kismesis. Jesus._

“It was an impulse. A really dumb one,” Pyrope said by way of apology. “I shouldn’t have put you in the middle like that.”

“If it doesn’t lean toward ‘ashen’ or whatever, I think she’s got some legitimate concerns,” Dave said.

“Definitely legitimate, and I shouldn’t tease her for worrying, but she still didn’t need to badger you.”

“It’s okay,” Dave said. “I’ve dealt with worried clients before, so I can deal with worried ‘cross-quadrants.’” They talked some more, mostly about how they were going to integrate Ampora into the team, and then Pyrope headed off to a briefing. Dave made arrangements for a room and talked to the trolls who were going to be supervising Ampora before heading off to the interview.

The interview was awkward and reminded Dave of the odd little interrogation just before the riot on board the liner, only weirdly reversed. The Movement indoctrination hadn’t knocked much of the arrogance out of the former noble, though he seemed pretty reluctant to answer the questions Dave asked about the work Ampora had been doing, and how he’d been getting along with the people he’d had to work with. “Look, I know you were probably told that I complain about basically everything, and I do, but I know you’re not supposed to snitch,” Ampora said with a flash of temper when Dave hit a sensitive spot.

“You’re the one who asked for the interview, Ampora,” Dave said. “Hence the friendly interrogation. So we can find out if letting you on the team is a good idea or just a huge mistake.”

“I’d rather just talk about my skill sets, not if shit bloods are trying to make me flip out,” Ampora said. If he were human, he’d be gritting his teeth. His fins flared instead, and there was a slight buzzing resonance in his voice.

“Which actually ties into the argument I’m making, bro,” Dave pointed out. “No one actually wants a berserk highblood wrecking shit.”  

“I’m not going to go berserk,” Ampora said. “And you’re not my moirail, _sir_.”

“Yeah, but I’m going to be your supervisor,” Dave said. He decided to ignore the tone of voice that went with the _sir_. “And it’s kind of important to find out if you can play nicely with others.”

Ampora snorted. “I can ‘play nice,’” he said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do, anyway.”

Dave decided that that was as much as he was going to be getting out of Ampora. He followed the suggestion about concentrating on Ampora’s skillsets and asked a lot of questions about his work history. Because he was pretty sure Pyrope would be disappointed if he didn’t, he slipped in some commentary about the breaking and entering incident. The sea troll ruffled, but didn’t really go after the bait, though he did reveal that Pyrope had apparently threatened Ampora after the shooting.  

“Were there white flower petals falling in the background?” Dave asked, and then said, “never mind,” when Ampora gave him a blank look.

After some more conversation, Dave received a message that Ampora’s quarters were ready. “We’ve already filled out the paperwork, and your room on _Balanced Blade_ is ready. Do you need time to pack?”

Ampora shook his head. “No, just need to get my sylladex.”

About an hour later, they were on board the ship. The cabin was about midway between Coiver’s and Pyrati’s. It had enough room for a recuperacoon and a desk, and a locker, but not much else. The ablution block was a tiny little closet. Ampora turned in a tight circle taking all of this in. He was definitely not happy about the amenities but was trying not to show it; Dave awarded him about half a point.

“Well, at least you’re not sharing it with three other people,” Dave said, and handed Ampora his sylladex. He did not bother making a show of going through it for contraband; there wouldn’t be. “Let me show you around.”

“Don’t see how four people would be able to,” Ampora said, and followed him out into the corridor.

“Two bunks, with sopor pads if they were trolls, and no desk,” Dave said. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble if each was on a different work shift, and they had access to a communal ablution area.”

Ampora had nothing to say to this, and mostly kept quiet except for the occasional question. After giving Ampora the tour of the administrative deck, the library, evidence rooms and labs, he took Ampora to one of the meeting blocks and introduced him to his supervisors. “Nasute Fasces is in charge of the database project. What you’ll be doing with her is mostly data entry. Obelus Racche is in charge of team coordination. What you’ll be doing with him is mostly also data entry plus other random duties,” Dave said.

“Understood sir,” Ampora said, bowing.

This was another thing that was weird, Ampora calling him _sir_. “Fasces and Racche can fill you in on the details. Any questions for me?”

“No sir,” Ampora said.

“Alright then,” Dave said. “There’s some things I need to get done.” He nodded to Fasces and Racche, and then left the meeting block.

 

* * *

 

The war started heating up, becoming more than just something motoring along in the background. The “contacts” that the Heiress’ Fleet had been experiencing evolved into skirmishes and battles. People were still joining the Fleet and occasionally saboteurs would manage to evade Security’s background checks and those sabotage attempts needed to be investigated and documented. Then there were instances of Movement members committing crimes and needing to be put on trial.

The situation was pretty hectic, and at first, Dave didn’t get many opportunities to use his shiny new forensitech license. But eventually, the administrative side of the department started pulling together, which gave Dave more opportunities to head out with investigative teams. He usually ended up working with Marcus or Coiver, though sometimes he ended up with one of the other legislacerator teams.

In between the forensitech duties and the administrative assistant duties he was still performing, he was still going to therapy. The sessions tended to wander between social interactions and random things that happened while he was working. There was supposed to be another “operation” but Telzey wanted to hold off until things were calmer. “I want to give you another scan, and do some adjustments of some your feedback loops,” Telzey said during the meeting. “May I ask how you’ve been sleeping, Mr. Strider?”

“Same as I usually do,” Dave said. “Daymares occasionally, but otherwise I’ve been fine, sir.”

“You’ve mentioned visitations to Ariane.”

Dave shrugged. “We’re waiting for boss’ matesprit to come back from her mission before we break out the Ouija boards.”

Telzey nodded and asked oblique questions about the visitations. Most of them seemed to be about how he felt about them, than about who was doing the visiting. “This is Ariane’s area more than mine,” Telzey said after a round of questions about euphemistic intimacy. “But do you feel that you’re _negotiating_ between your human desires and Pyrope’s pale feelings or _performing_ an approximation that’s close enough to meet both of your needs?”

“Are you asking me if I’m just going along with what my boss wants from me?” Dave asked.

“No, not that,” Telzey said. “Both approaches have the same emotional weight. The only difference is a negotiation is an attempt to find a middle ground, and a performance is an attempt to fulfill perceived requirements.” 

“I don’t know how to answer that,” Dave said. And it still sounded like, _are you just going along with what you believe is expected of you?_ Which was also a question he didn’t know how to answer. It felt too complicated, too private to talk about.

“What are your human feelings for her?” Telzey asked. “Are you attracted to her?”

The word for “attraction” that Telzey used was one that was usually used for matesprits. Dave remembered Domingo saying, _so you’re telling me you don’t want to tap that?_ “My human feelings are all over the place. I respect her,” he said finally. “I care about her, working for her makes me happy. I appreciate the way she treats me and the things she’s done for me. I don’t know if I’m ‘attracted’ to her in a way that would be romantic for a human.” _No, I don’t_ need _to tap that_ , Dave thought _._

 


	37. In which the Legislacerator makes things clear, and relationship conversations turn murky and complicated

Terezi waited for Dave to get Ampora settled into his duties before sending for him. Ampora arrived promptly enough, smelling wary and uncertain. Terezi did not give in to the impulse to make him wait while she pretended to ignore him. “Have a seat, Ampora,” she said, indicating one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Just to be clear,” she said once he sat down, “you were added to this division’s pool because I want to keep an eye on you.”

“That’s understood,” Ampora said, tacking on a belated “mistress,” at the end. “I won’t cause any problems.”

“You are a problem Ampora,” Terezi said. “You’re a sea troll.”

Ampora shifted angrily in the chair. “I _abdicated_ , and I’ll be spending the next hundred sweeps doing make-work before anyone trusts me, you think I don’t know that?”

“You’re still a highblood,” Terezi pointed out. “Which means you’re going to be a focus for attention, which has already proven to be a problem.”

“I’m beginning to think none of you planned on me giving up my sign and rank, _Lady_ ,” Ampora shot back. “I don’t think a one of you had any idea of what you’d do with me if I picked abdicatin’ over keeping my sign. And it’s not my damned fault if lowbloods take it into their heads to get their own back. I’ll tell you what I told Strider, _Mistress_ , I can get along, and I’m not gonna pitch a fit.”

“You had better not,” Terezi said. “If you have problems, take them to Strider.”

“Yes Mistress, I can do that,” Ampora said. “Is that all, or does anyone else on this ship want to tell me to mind my manners?”

Terezi was a little surprised Ampora hadn’t made a comment about, “ _yeah, report my problems to the brachiating primate who shot me,”_ and tried not to show it. “Not at the moment. Don’t forget you still have classes to attend--you’re dismissed.” Ampora stood, bowed, and let himself out of the office.

The next few nights she kept tabs on him, wanting to make sure he was getting along with his coworkers and wasn’t causing problems. (And also, that his coworkers weren’t causing _him_ problems.) There were a few incidents, but Ampora kept his head during them and kept himself out of trouble, except possibly where Dave was concerned. In his interactions with Dave, he tended to be a little more sarcastic, a little more challenging. It didn’t quite go into “black flirtation” territory but it was very close, and Dave wouldn’t let her do anything about it. “Boss, I can handle Ampora, this isn’t something you need to intervene on,” Dave said when she brought it up during a pile. “I don’t think he’s black flirting and anyway, wouldn’t that be going ashen on me?”

“I would definitely not call it ashen,” Terezi said. “It would be an entirely pale defense of my moirail.” After a beat she asked, “Are you sure? I remember how upset you used to get when you thought I was black flirting with you.”

 “Yeah, well, you’re actually scary,” Dave said, and then reached out to tap her lightly on the nose. “Ampora, not so much.”

 Terezi snapped her teeth at Dave’s retreating finger. “Dave, he frightened you badly after he pulled that stupid stunt.”

 “ _He_ wasn’t all that scary, boss. It was his rank,” Dave said patiently. “I didn’t have any problem with pointing a gun at him when he tried to get past me in the office.”

Terezi snickered, remembering Dave saying, _“Oh no, terror is making my hands shake. I’m so frightened my finger might convulsively pull the trigger,”_ to an outraged Ampora. “Or shooting at him,” she said. “I am fussing too much, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a little, boss,” Dave said. “He’s doing the work he’s told to, even if he’s also being kind of an asshole. I have worked with assholes before, granted they weren’t _highblood_ assholes, but I can still handle him because I am pretty sure he doesn’t want to fuck up his chances at improving his situation.”

“This is true,” Terezi said. “But I still want to beat him up.”

“I have heard that this is not an unusual impulse where Ampora is concerned,” Dave said, a smirk in his voice. “But try to control yourself.”

“I’ll try, but only because you requested it.”

**[trenchantGratisdicta (TG) is trolling gallisCalcographer (GC)!]**

TG: okay so i am breaking in my new handle by letting you know that Harley asked me out on a date

TG: and i have no idea of what to do about it

GC: Tell her yes or no?

TG: dot dot dot followed by a long pause

GC: Okay, yeah, that was flippant and dumb. Did you tell her one way or another?

TG: no i kind of dodged the question said that id have to ask you

TG: which i kind of feel i have to

TG: because of reasons

TG: and she does because quote consent issues unquote

GC: We’re going to have talk about this in a pile. But for right now, do you _want_ to go out on a date with Harley?

TG: yes i think i do but heres the thing she reminds me of you and i dont know how i feel about that

GC: How do you mean?

TG: youre both hella smart, determined and curious  and fierce and maybe also a little crazy but on you its cute and okay im definitely attracted but if i feel the same way about her the way i do about you things are going to get complicated and

TG: i don’t know what im going to do and telzey was asking about how i felt about you if what i felt was physical attraction like  concupiscent attraction  and i still dont know about that

TG: because what if i am completely fucked up because of what happened to me

TG: shit im freaking out again this going to get old pretty damn fast if i keep having vapors every time someone shows that kind of interest

TG: and i cant say this never happened before because it did only it was usually after instead of before

TG: not that i anticipate making it to even first base or anything re freaking out

TG: youve been quiet for a while boss

GC: That would be because I had to get our cushions and insulated fabric squares into a pile. Do you want me to come get you, or do you feel you can make it to our suite?

GC: Or would you prefer to abscond to the flagship and talk to Egbert and Vantas again?   

TG: i can make it on my way now

**[trenchantGratisdicta (TG) is no longer trolling gallisCalcographer (GC)!]**

Dave entered the suite a few minutes later, smelling anxious and trying to sound composed. “Hey boss,” he said, setting down his husktop and taking off his coat before dropping onto the pile. “How was your night?”

“Mostly checking my inbox and reviewing reports,” Terezi said. “Aradia will be returning soon. She says once she’s had a chance to rest, she’ll help you speak to your brother.”

“Okay,” Dave said, sounding a little relieved about not jumping directly into the reason for this particular pile. “That’s another thing to be nervous about, I guess.”

“I was nervous too, the first time Aradia let me speak to my Ancestor through her,” Terezi said. “It was almost creepier than when she sent actual manifestations after Vriska.” Dave made a noncommittal noise and almost shyly cuddled closer. She shifted to accommodate him, allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder. “How was _your_ night?”

“Ampora had a meltdown after an argument with Pyrati,” Dave said. He was obviously going to take full advantage of the entire ‘avoid the subject that is actually bothering you’ clause of their entirely metaphorical piling contract. “You are apparently not the only one who thinks he’s black flirting. I still don’t see it.”

“What happened?” Terezi asked.

“A tantrum that ended with Ampora screaming ‘I wwant my moirail Strider, just fuck all a this shit I wwant my goddamned moirail,’” Dave said, mimicking Ampora’s dialect. “I put him in the quiet room for a while, by which I actually mean I sent him back to his quarters.”

“Ampora has a moirail?”

“Who he has never actually seen in the flesh, but yeah, he apparently has one. It was something he was keeping completely hidden because he didn’t want his sponsor to use the moirail as leverage.”

“That’s nearly moral of him,” Terezi said. “Try to get more information about his moirail from him. Let him know we’ll try to find the moirail and he’s allowed to contact them, but he’s going to have to be patient.”

Dave nodded, and neither of them said anything for a while. She played with his hair and he decided the pattern on her second favorite shirt was absolutely fascinating. Terezi thought that she would have to break the silence herself when Dave finally spoke. “Okay so, after Ampora had his meltdown and things settled again, Harley messages me, and we talk back and forth while I’m re-arranging assignments and other stuff. We’re joking around a little bit, and then she asks me out and if you want the gruesome details you can look at my log but basically, yes I want to date her but I’m afraid if I do something will explode in my face.”

“Because of Pyrati’s crush?” Terezi guessed. “Or because you were worried I might become jealous?” Dave had mentioned something about being attracted to both her _and_ Harley, in the same way, and for the same reasons. He had also mentioned the psycherugeon asking him what sounded like veiled questions about concupiscent intimacy. She felt a little annoyed by this, particularly after Dave having been asked _those same questions_ more crudely by the ghost who had visited him.

Dave shifted a bit. “I don’t know. Both maybe. How much do you know about the kind of training I got?”

Terezi didn’t want to answer that. “Aside from what I learned when I had classes in modifying conditioning, I recently received some tapes about the training process and installation of the loyalty mods in humans.”

Dave made a noise that was nearly a laugh. “Just a little light entertainment. We’re trained to be ‘accommodating’ to our owners. Meaning, if they want sex, get them off. And that, if I get anywhere with Harley, isn’t what I want.”

“I think you’re jumping a little ahead here,” Terezi said. “You haven’t even gone out with her yet!” She kissed the top of Dave’s head. “I am curious about what you mean about being attracted to both me and Harley in the same way.”

“I mean I’m attracted to you in the same way I am also attracted to Harley,” Dave said after a few minutes. His voice sounded hesitant, reluctant. “And also you are totally alike. But I do not particularly want to have sex with either of you.”

Oh, this was a minefield. “I think matters of human concupiscence should be handled by your human therapist,” Terezi said after some thought. “I think I also want to kick the psycherugeon in the head a few times. More seriously, I don’t mind you going out on a date with Jade.” She smiled a little. “Would you like me to manage your heart quadrant, just a little?”

“Heh. Like what, ‘bring my moirail home at a decent time or else’?” Dave asked.

“Something like that,” Terezi said. “I don’t want to have things blow up in our face either, so would you mind if I sought advice from your friend John?” And Vantas as well, but Karkat was _her_ hatefriend, and she didn’t think she needed permission for that. (Mostly because she suspected that anything she said to John would be relayed to Karkat--and probably also Feferi--anyway.) “Since John is also in a relationship with a troll, he might be able to give me advice.”

Dave was silent for a moment, considering the request. “I guess I don’t mind,” he said.

* * *

It was a few nights before Terezi was able to meet with John and Karkat. There were cases she needed to work on directly, and she needed to report to Feferi about the discovery of Ampora’s moirail. (From there, it became a Security matter to find the moirail and make sure he or she wasn’t a liability.) She also played chaperon for Jade and Dave’s first date, which mostly consisted of movies and computer games in Dave’s room.

Aradia and her ashenmates returned from their mission and after debriefing, moved into a suite on the flagship. “For now, we’re going to be sticking with the Fleet,” Aradia said. “We’re hoping to get a chance to explore the Empress flagship.” She made it sound as if the Condesce’s defeat was a foregone conclusion.

“If we can find it,” Terezi said. “All we’ve been running into are Fleet and colonial enforcement ships.”

“If we can’t find her, she’ll find us,” Aradia said. “In fact, I’m sure the Duel will be soon.”

The complete certainty made Terezi shiver a little. “You are _not_ a prognosticator,” she said, giving Aradia a irritated look. “Stop being spooky outside your range of psychic talent.”

Aradia laughed. “But being spooky is fun,” she said, giving Terezi a peck on the cheek. “But I’ll stick to being spooky within my range for now. How is Dave? He sent me a few questions about his dead, and mentioned a few visitations.”

“He and Harley are becoming close, and I think I like the idea of having her as a quadrant corner,” Terezi said. “But there are ‘issues’ that we’re trying to work on.”

“I like Harley as well, though I’m a little jealous about her current relationship with Sollux,” Aradia said. Then, rather abstractly, “you know, I was in the theater when the whacky romance shenanigans of John, Feferi and Karkat were playing. So, while I know humans really don’t fit in a quadrant, it might be that Dave doesn’t know that I know that.”

“Congratulations, that is a very, mysterious and spooky comment!” Terezi said. “Would you mind unpacking it for the less mysterious?”

“I mean that you are not the only person he’s worried about offending. He doesn’t want to offend me if his feelings seem red, he doesn’t want to offend Vriska if his admiration and desire to prove himself seems black, and he does not want to offend either you, or Harley,” Aradia said. “Now, I am not a psycherugeon or a therapist, I only thought of this because of conversations with Dave’s brother and his hatefriend, and because watching Karkat tear his hair out because of something John did or said was hilarious.”

“You’re probably right. It’s something I’ll bring up during one of our joint sessions with the therapist,” Terezi said. “I was also going to talk to Karkat and John, ask them for advice.”

“That would be a good idea,” Aradia said. “I’ll talk to Dave, and try to reassure him that I’m happy to have him as a quadrant corner.”   

They talked some more, mostly quadrant gossip, and then scheduled at time when Aradia would be available to act as a medium so Dave could talk to his brother.

* * *

Terezi walked into the community center on the _Steadfast_ toward the end of what sounded like a debate being mediated Karkat-fashion. “So, Taiiba is completely correct when she says that sin is a construct. Tables are constructs, hivestems are constructs, sin is a created concept that puts a moral judgment on an action that may or may not actually be an error,” Karkat was saying. He gestured toward John, who was standing nearby. “In this idiot’s culture of origin, it was once and in some cases still is considered to be a sin for two people of the same gender to have concupiscent feelings for each other.”

“I can confirm this is true,” John said, sounding amused. “At least about the _homosexuality_ thing, not about being an idiot.”

“To trolls this of course makes absolutely no sense,” Karkat continued, “and possibly there are humans who are not idiots to whom this also makes no sense. The thing to remember here is what you are supposed to be doing, is figuring out what constitutes an actual ‘sin’ and what is completely bullshit, _Marhan_ ,” he said, giving the other debater a hard look.  

“I will meditate on this lesson,” Marhan said with a bow.

“No, you and Taiiba will continue your discussion, on your own time,” Karkat replied and nudged them both back to where the other cult members were seated. “Okay everyone, we’re going to go over the relevant chapters from the Commentaries, and if you’re confused about which chapters are relevant, the next class will be ‘how to use the goddamn index in the back of the book.’ Remember we have the gym free for sparring this morning and I have arbitrarily picked Tristen-who-is-not-here to lead morning and evening prayers for the next perigee.”  The cultists rose to their feet, and filed out of the room. (Terezi ignored the ones who noticed her and bowed.)

“I seek your guidance, teacher,” Terezi said with mock humility.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” Karkat said flatly. “Have you had dinner? Because we’re going to the officer’s mess.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting something to eat. And possibly drink,” Terezi replied. “There may in fact be a lot of drinking.”

“That does not sound good,” John said. “Any problems?”

Terezi smiled. “Only of the romantic variety, I’m hoping the two of you can help me with them.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Karkat said after exchanging a look with John.

The walk to the officer’s mess was fairly quiet, and they didn’t do a lot of talking. Just idle quadrant gossip and small talk. Once they were seated, (in a small private room) Terezi pretended to look through the menu and selected her meal at semi-random as she tried to assemble her questions into something like a logical order. Karkat and John made their own orders and patiently waited for her to say something. “I wanted to ask you questions about how you two manage your relationship,” Terezi said finally. “I’d also like to ask John a few questions specifically about Dave.”

“Questions you couldn’t ask him?” John asked.

“Questions I don’t want to ask him,” Terezi said. “Because he’s ‘freaking out’ enough as it is.”

“What happened?”

Terezi explained the situation, Dave being attracted to Harley, and worrying that this attraction would be seen as a betrayal because of quadrant confusion. Dave being afraid that since his feelings for Harley and Terezi was similar, that he wouldn’t be able to be intimate with Harley. She also talked about how she felt about all of this. “It upsets me,” she said. “That I can’t reassure him that I won’t be jealous, that I do understand that what he feels for me is not quite what I feel for him. In other areas I can help him, but not when it comes to the relationship itself.”

“But you are talking about it, right?” Karkat asked.

Terezi nodded. “Aradia pointed out some things to me, and I feel a little less confused, but I’m still worried, and more than a little curious about how human relationships work,” she said, mostly directing the comment toward John.

“Heh. Human relationships are pretty complicated and hard to define,” John said. “At least in Alternian. I’m pretty sure it’s a breeze in any human language!”

Karkat rolled his eyes. “Right. Basically, humans don’t have quadrants, instead they have relationships that can occasionally seem like a mix of quadrants but they are not actually quadrants. And knowing this intellectually does not actually help when you have a smartass subordinate who blithely decides he is your best friend.”

“Actually I decided that his grumpy smiles were cute,” John stage-whispered. He grinned at the very rude gesture Karkat directed at him. “Karkat _did_ get mad at me because I hit it off with Feferi almost immediately, though really, he totally should have gotten mad at _her_ , because she was totally flirting with me.”

“Mostly I was angry because I read you as flirting black to me,” Karkat said. “It resulted in some weirdly ashen behavior that I had no idea of how to handle.”

“How did you resolve it?” Terezi asked. She really wanted to know how Feferi had seen this situation, and almost regretted not asking her. _Something I can do later, maybe._

“Karkat propositioned me caliginous and I explained that I was not available for that quadrant, please try again,” John said. “He yelled a lot about it and for a while I tried to stay out of his way, but eventually Feferi stepped in and started taking us out on little outings. She made us have conversations and told us very nicely that if we didn’t behave ourselves she would ask Kanaya to mediate with her chainsaw.”

“She didn’t want to go ashen with us,” Karkat explained dryly.

There was a slight pause in the conversation when their food arrived. Terezi poked at the pasta dish that had arrived and took a few bites. John had gotten a slab of meat and some kind of tuber, and Karkat was eating poultry. Terezi took a drink before continuing. “So from there, was it more red, or more pale?” Terezi asked. “Or was it more whatever humans feel?”

Karkat and John exchanged a look. “I am very tempted to just answer ‘yes,’” John said with a little laugh. “Though what I guess is that they read what I’m doing as either red or pale, and I am mostly trying to figure out if it’s just snuggles tonight or sexy fun times for everyone. This is not always readily apparent!”

Karkat narrowly missed having his beverage come out his nose. “It’s a lot of things,” Karkat said, giving John a dark look. (John grinned back, unrepentant.) “Are you worried about Dave feeling more ‘red’ toward you?”

“Not as such,” Terezi said. “It doesn’t bother me, and I think it doesn’t bother Aradia either. I’m concerned because he thinks that his lack of a desire to have sex with anyone is a sign there is something permanently wrong with him.”

“Well, you’ll probably have to ask someone who actually knows what they’re talking about,” John said “But Dave might be right in some sense. On the other hand, some humans just have no interest in sex, or they’re willing to have sex if they’re close enough to someone, but never initiate that level of intimacy themselves.” He paused for a moment, frowning in thought. “When we were kids, Dave had a crush on me and I kind of shot him down because I was dumb and we were both kids. But, I was the only person there he ever had a crush on as far as I could tell, I might be wrong about that though, I was kinda self-centered as a kid. People who don’t really have much interest in sex are usually referred to as _asexual_. There are a couple other related terms that mostly serve to refine the orientation down to specifics.”

“So, Dave might be _‘asexual’_ ,” Terezi said thoughtfully.

“Or it might be a result of his training, or it might be a combination,” Karkat said.

Terezi nodded and then gave John a speculative look. “I’m a little curious about why you rejected Dave though, especially since you were and are so close.”  

John flushed and mumbled something Terezi couldn’t quite catch. Karkat’s smile widened, and had a definite nasty edge. “If you’ll recall my example from earlier,” he said, “you can probably guess why.”

 “Oh god, I was thirteen and really, really dumb!” John protested.

 It took Terezi a moment to get it. “He thought there was something wrong with same-gendered people having a relationship?”

 “I am not a _homophobe_ ,” John said. Karkat just kept grinning and John applied the palm of his hand to his forehead, as if he were trying to pap himself. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” He asked, exasperated.

“Nope, never.”

“I have a feeling there’s a story I’m missing here,” Terezi said, amused.

“There isn’t!”

“Oh, but there is. Imagine if you will a mutant, unlucky in love except for a single quadrant, and that threatened by an alien...”

 


	38. In which Dave suffers a number of romantic and therapeutic interludes; moirails support each other in the face of otherworldly visitation and we close the story on an optimistic note

The first date was fun, though not actually much of a date. He and Harley stayed up late playing computer games and watching movies in his respite block. Pyrope would occasionally poke her head into the block and ask them if they were having fun, or if she could get them anything. She also set out a little candle lit dinner for the two of them in the meeting block, which was going above and beyond the call of chaperon duty though apparently well within the requirements for Being a Good Moirail. Of course, she ruined it by declaring that she was the very best wingman. (Or maybe not; Jade seemed to think it was funny.) 

They talked and joked in and around the entertainment, stories about school, and stories about the island where Jade grew up. Her grandfather had been a retired soldier turned survivalist and Jade had been living mostly feral (“Oh my god shut up, I was not a feral child!”) from the age of ten until she was fifteen when she accidentally made the training exercise of some cadets from Sand Island extremely exciting. She lost her dog during the battle, but gained a family when she ended up in foster care. “I was just really lucky,” Jade said.

“Sounds like,” Dave said. He asked her questions about Hawaii and where she’d gone to school. He told her stories about White Tank, the safe ones about plays and performances for visiting high bloods, war games and his friends. He talked a little about music, and his DJing gigs, which wandered into a discussion about favorite pre-Annexation artists. They talked well into the day, sitting together on the pile of cushions by the bed and eventually falling asleep.

There was a moment of confusion when he woke up that evening. Just a moment of fuzzily wondering what time Pyrope had snuck into the room, and wondering why he didn’t remember waking up because she usually did that first when he was having a nightmare and then going _wait, that’s not Pyrope what the fuck?_ And then, _oh hi Jade_ , and _hello Jade’s knee_. One of his arms was dead and his head was resting on Jade’s shoulder, while her knee was tucked between his legs. It was unnerving how comfortable he was with this position, even with the dead arm.

There was an urgently blinking message on the computer with greenish yellow text that Dave couldn’t make out from his position. He nudged Jade, and she stirred a little. “Harley, your other boyfriend is calling you,” he said. (He had a very brief moment of wondering if it was too soon to refer to himself as her boyfriend. He then very firmly told that thought to go clutch pearls elsewhere.) “Actually I am not sure it’s your other boyfriend, it could be anyone with yellow text from this position,” and then, a little belatedly, “evening.”

“Evening,” Jade said with a sleepy smile. She leaned in and gave him a quick little kiss on the cheek, just completely casual and affectionate before untangling herself and heading over to the computer. “It’s Sollux,” she said. “Pff. He’s asking what base I made it to!”

“I think non-euphemistic sleeping together counts as at least second,” Dave said, sitting up and trying to get some feeling back into his arm. He was about to stand up and head to the ablution block when Pyrope knocked, then stuck her head into the room.

“Everyone up already?” Terezi asked cheerfully. “Do you both want to get breakfast brought here, or would you like to go down to the cafeteria?” She asked.

“Cafeteria sounds okay,” Jade said.

“Cafeteria,” Dave said.

When they got to the cafeteria, Terezi just grabbed some grubloaf and tea and absconded for the office block. Before she left, she told him he could take the day off. He almost, reflexively protested. Not that he didn’t mind having the extra time off, it just felt weird for a moment. Whoops, the training wheels were off, completely unsupervised time off, who knows what shenanigans he could get up to.

“I guess she trusts me with your virtue,” Jade said. “Anything you wanted to do?”

“Not much to do on this ship,” Dave said. “The flagship’s recreation deck usually has something going on though.”

“We could go to the shooting range,” Jade said. “There’s also a little movie theater on the rec deck.” 

“That sounds doable,” Dave said.

The second date was more like an actual date, though Dave couldn’t quite relax during it. He felt awkward and nervous, suddenly hit by the differences in their class. Jade was wearing civilian casual and he was wearing one of his work suits with teal accents and Pyrope’s sign on the lapel. It was nice that Jade didn’t seem to care about the difference but he worried (kind of stupidly) that someone might see the difference and make comments.

Jade noticed his nervousness, and distracted him with stories from her internship. (“Trolls get so weird when you cuss out tech!” Jade said. “She speaks to malfunctioning devices while she repairs them, what is this witchery!?”) After a while, it was easier to relax, and the date started to be fun. They hung out for a while after the movie, went out to the shooting range (where Jade pretty much kicked his ass) and then Jade walked him back to the shuttle bay. “Do you want to go out again later in the week?” Jade asked.

“I think I’ll have some more free time soon,” Dave said. “I’ll message you when I find out.”

They kissed, and it wasn’t at all awkward, though there might have been a metaphorical soarbeast or three doing some barnstorming when her mouth pressed against his. Just a moment of _oh fuck what do I do_ that made no actual sense. And also, _oh shit I like you I don’t want to fuck this up_ that did. There was also some nose bumping and eyewear clicking involved. They both ended up laughing about it. “I’ll probably message you first,” Jade said with a grin, and gave him another kiss, this time a quick one on the cheek before seeing him onto the shuttle.

The trip on the shuttle was mostly spent thinking about the kiss and all of the details of the date. He also thought about waking up that evening, curled up with Jade on a pile. Jade hadn’t seemed disappointed that the sleeping together had been non-euphemistic. He wasn’t quite sure if he should be relieved or worried about that. (Relieved that there had been no pressure to go further, that he wasn’t required to do anything. Worry that she was going to wait for him to make a move.) _Anyway, it was the second date and there was kissing and the kissing was good._

When he returned to Balanced Blade and the suite he shared with Pyrope, he saw that there were a number of messages waiting for him. One was from Ampora, apologizing for his meltdown (while bitching about having been sent to his room). Dave wrote back with, _Next time you get into an argument; just say, “any complaints should be addressed to my supervisor.” Then you tell your supervisor to get a hold of me. Has Egbert gotten back to you about your moirail?_ This led to a back and forth exchange of e-mails where Ampora explained the complications of a long distance, mostly anonymous moirallegiance. The dude didn’t even know what caste or gender he or she was for sure, only that he’d “met” him or her in an online history community. Then he complained about having to hand over his chat logs with the moirail to Egbert.

The next message was from Aradia, letting him know that she was ready to help him contact his bro. She also wanted to let him know that she was “okay” with him possibly having human concupiscent feelings for Pyrope. _I know that humans don’t actually fit in quadrants, and I don’t feel jealous of your relationship with Terezi. I appreciate having you as a quadrant-corner, and consider you a friend._ _I also want to remind you that you can talk to me about things that might be bothering you!_

Dave sent a message back, _That was a thing I was worried about. Thanks for the reassurance. I don’t want to screw anything up between you and Pyrope. Is there anything I need to do to get ready for the séance or whatever you’re going to do?_

 _All you have to do is bring yourself to my quarters on Steadfast,_ Aradia wrote back. _Did you want Terezi to be there too?_

 _Yeah, I think I do._ Dave replied. He next answered message from the therapist, who was basically asking him about how his date went. He gave her a brief rundown of the date. (Mostly that it happened. If she wanted details, she could wait until he’d actually had time to think of what to say, or had his brain picked about it by Pyrope, whichever came first.)  He also let her know that he was going to be talking to his brother.

Dave was working on some music when Pyrope returned to the suite a little later than usual, with dinner. “Did you have a nice time?” Pyrope asked as she set up the table and unpacked the containers.

“Yeah,” Dave said. He closed the project he was working on and headed over to the table. “It was like an adolescent rom com. Cute boy _from the wrong side of the tracks_ and the adorable _geek tomboy next door_. She’s going to help me with my science project, and I’m going to keep her disastrously _misogynistic_ parents from nagging her about going on dates, because until now, she has shown no inclination to date boys.”

“You are the best delinquent,” Pyrope said, grinning, and pushed over one of the packages of food.

“Picking up English colloquialisms, huh? I’m impressed boss,” Dave said, and sat down at the table. Dinner was meat and vegetables over some kind of grain with cheese sauce.

“The language tapes have been very educational!” She started in on her own dinner before asking, “Do you feel as if you’re not a suitable match for Harley?”

 “I feel like I’ve never actually been on a date before,” Dave said. He felt a little guilty about saying it that way, since he and Pyrope had more or less gone on “dates” in the past. It was the only way he could think of it though. “And maybe yeah, like I’m not on her level.”

To his relief, Pyrope didn’t seem to be offended, and she didn’t tease him about it either. “In what sense do you feel you’re not on her level?” Pyrope asked instead. “In your background? In your current occupations and status?”

Dave shrugged. “Maybe both? I don’t even know. I just felt self-conscious, and I didn’t want anything to ruin it.”

“It’s pretty normal to be worried about a date going well,” Pyrope said. “You did have fun though, right?”

“Yeah, it was fun,” Dave said. “She asked me out again later in the week.”

“Good,” Pyrope said, then grinned wickedly. “Would you like me to ask Captor if he and Harley have had any jams about you?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary, boss,” Dave said. “But thanks; now I’ll be worrying if they have.”

“I’m sure any jams they will have had are completely positive discussions of your swag, Dave.”    

* * *

 

**[trenchantGratisdicta (TG) is trolling gunneryGnostic (GG)!]**

TG: so are you in counseling with captor yet

TG: i ask because oh my god couple counseling will kill me dead from embarrassment

TG: i need a shoulder to cry on jade a non pyropean shoulder and a non-egbertian shoulder because he broke my heart then sweeps later got drunk and moody about on the anniversary of my having been moved to the slave pool

TG: and went to sob on the second coming of troll jesus shoulder woe i broke a gay cowboys heart woe my very best bro i was a terrible friend the very worst friendleader

TG: obviously they dont do seal of the confessional or whatever it is when you confess something and the priest or whatever isnt allowed to talk about it because confidentiality because the entire tale was told for the edification of my other girlfriend

TG: and also this is relevant to our thing sort of

GG: i think youre going to need to unpack most of that dave!! what happened and how did it come up in counseling?

TG: okay so ive been kind of worried about dating you and having a thing with pyrope too specifically worried that pyrope might get upset or one of her other quadrants might get upset because i might seem red or even black depending on how i feel about her at a given time and i have a history that im not gonna get into at this point except it was terrible

TG: pyrope was worried that I was worried and had a number of chats with my permission she talked to egbert and they speculated on various theories about how a moirail might approach a human who is the usual red black white mess somehow during this very educational lesson in the ways of the heart of one dave strider it came up that when we were kids, i had a pretty ridiculous crush on egbert

TG: when i made an overture due to incidents i thought might be flirting egbert was really emphatic about not being gay then fell all over himself apologizing in the most dumbass manner possible

TG: there was no limit to the dumbassery

TG: i ended up not speaking to him for about a week then let him off the jut, but egbert apparently took it harder and it turned into this big thing he felt the need to unburden himself with since he hadn’t been able to find me after sweeps of looking and he ended up crying on vantas shoulder

TG: vantas apparently also encountered the emphatic not gay thing or some other thing when he himself was crushing on egbert vantas has apparently vowed not ever let the dude forget what a douchelord he can be so he decided to share the tale with pyrope

TG: all of this came out during our joint session btw

TG: also there was some speculation on my sexual orientation or libido a i am asexual b my training was not conducive to a healthy relationship with sex which no fucking kidding

TG: jade

TG: jade

TG: was that too much information

TG: shit it was too much information wasn’t it.

TG: i probably shouldn’t have mentioned the asexual thing or the training jade sorry

GG: calm your mammaliian tiit2 2triider 2he'2 plowiing through your 2tupiid quiirk a2 fa2t a2 2he can

TG: oh like youre one to talk why are you reading over her shoulder anyway

GG: you mentiioned u2 a2 a uniit therefore you get the benefiit of our joiint wii2dom

TG: im honored really but your shoulders are too bony to cry on jeez doesn’t jade even feed you

GG: were working on getting him to experience an appetite first!! to answer the first question yes me and sollux are in joint counseling!! it has been very educational and helpful though sollux occasionally blows things up in fact he is offering to blow things up for you at this very moment as a special favor for a fellow alumnus of the imperial academy of brainfucking

TG: thanks for the offer i just needed to get it off my chest and maybe apologize if things are too weird for you because of my situation

GG: its absolutely not to weird!!  I was already kind of assuming that we’d be taking it slow? If youre having any problems, or if you want me to stop doing something or if you need some space, you can tell me, and itll be fine! we can talk about it. ive really enjoyed going out with you dave!

TG: ive had lots of fun too though i get a little nervous about whether im doing it right never really had any real dates and I dont want screw this up

GG: you havent screwed anything up!!! okay sometimes you worry too much and seem a little insecure but its definitely not a problem! (especially not compared to sollux wow can he beat himself up)

GG: ii love you two jade <>

TG: so you dont mind that im an insecure douche so if i asked how the date went the other day youd tell me right

GG: yes!! i would tell you it was fun just like it was fun the last two times you asked me!! :D

TG: shit third times the charm then i just wish we could have gone somewhere a little swanker

GG: pff it was fine! we both had a lot of fun, it was a completely optimal dating experience!  

TG: but how do i top it jade how do i create the superlative dating experience the ultimate dating experience when most of our dates are on the rec deck or chez pyrope

GG: chez pyrope is plenty swank!! but if you want a change of pace, we could always go to chez captor

TG: where well get our asses beat at star empires or has ts dragged him into his diabolical tabletop

GG: tabletop is definitely a thing that might happen! ts and sollux have been doing a lot of talking! and also arguing! i am beginning to wonder if theyre blaldfjal

GG: liie2 and 2lander my exa2peratiion ii2 platoniic

TG: noted can we go back to jade now

GG: augh! sorry dave!

TG: not a problem i too know the shame and embarrassment of significant others who steal the keyboard out from under you we should totally start a support group 

GG: we totally should!  when do you have some time off for our next date?

TG: a couple days from now i got a lot on my plate some of it work and some of it spookiness

GG: spookiness?

TG: im going to be going to a séance thing hosted by pyropes matesprit

TG: to talk to my brother receive his words of wisdom and acquire my birthright of strider swag

GG: oh wow. yes that is definitely a thing that is spooky. i want to ask if youre going to be okay?

TG: yeah i think ill be okay ive been getting used to the idea of being able to talk to him again ill have pyrope there to hold my hand so i should be fine

GG: just remember you can talk to me too!

TG: ill keep that in mind <3

GG: <3

**[trenchantGratisdicta (TG) is no longer trolling gunneryGnostic (GG)!]**

* * *

 

Dave wasn’t sure what to expect when he and Pyrope arrived at Megido’s suite. Something from a troll horror movie, solar disks and skeletons decorated by flowering vines, maybe. Megido wearing some kind of priestess costume decorated with bone beads in the shape of skulls. It wasn’t much like that at all.

When she met them at the door, she _was_ wearing a necklace of bone beads but they were tiny weirdly cheerful looking ram kangaroo creatures. She was wearing a white blouse and skirt with rust red shawl that wrapped around her hips. “Hello Terezi, Dave,” she said with a smile. “Have a seat in the meeting block. There just a few things I need to get and we can begin.”

Megido ushered them into the meeting block and indicated for them to sit next to each other on the couch, then she vanished into one of the side rooms. There was a low table in front of the couch that had been set up as an altar. There were flowers on it, and lit candles. “I want to say, ‘don’t be nervous,’ but I don’t think that will help right now,” Terezi said, and wrapped her hand around his.

“Probably not,” Dave said. “I also tried the ‘Agneta is a paramortem too’ but that didn’t work either.” He wondered if Agneta had been able to see and talk to “his dead” as Megido had seemed to. If she had, she had never really said anything about it. (And he had been too cowardly to ask.)

“What Agneta does is more secular anyway,” Pyrope said. She had a thoughtful look, as if she was thinking of saying more, but then Aradia entered the block.

She was nudging a round, wheeled stool toward the table, and carrying a frame drum and beater that she set on the floor next to the stool once it came to stop. She settled down on the stool and picked up the drum and beater, and set up a complicated rhythm that echoed oddly in his head. It was as if there was another drum also being beaten on the other end of a long hallway. He startled a little at a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, and Pyrope leaned against him. “It’s okay. It’s almost certainly someone you know,” she whispered.

“That doesn’t actually help, boss,” Dave whispered back. He very much wanted to turn in the direction he’d seen movement, but couldn’t make himself. Chills were traveling down his spine and he shivered at a strange noiseless giggle.

 _Hi Dave!_       

“Whoever that is, she smells adorable,” Pyrope murmured.

“Josie,” Dave said, and remembered a little girl with short dark hair and dark eyes. _“She was the daughter of a neighbor who used to babysit me when I was a kid.”_ Somehow, he knew that she’d died the same night his brother had. He wasn’t sure where the knowledge came from, and was sickeningly glad that the knowledge didn't extend to knowing _how_ she died.

 _“Hello Miss Josie,”_ Pyrope said in English. _“I thank you for being Dave’s friend.”_

 _“Hello lady lawyer,”_ Josie’s voice said. _“Thank you for not messing him up_ more _.”_ The tone was knowing and angry, somehow older, even though Josie still sounded like a little girl. A little girl who knew what had been done to him.

 _“I’m trying not to,”_ Pyrope said. _“Dave is one of my family and I love him.”_

For a moment, Dave felt breathless, completely stunned by what Pyrope had said, even though he knew she felt “pale” for him, that she cared about him. That she felt an intense desire to help him, and wanted him to be her confidante and companion. The world _love_ just about made his heart stop. “ _Terezi is one of my family,”_ he said in English. _“I love her.”_ Terezi’s breath caught at that, and she smiled at him. _“I love you,”_ he repeated.

The drumming stopped, or at least, Aradia had stopped drumming. He could still hear echo of the rhythm in his head. He could see the flicker of the beat in Aradia’s eyes. “Dave. Ask Josie to call your brother,” Aradia said.

He wanted to ask--can’t I call him?--but something told him that this was a rule and no, it didn’t need to make sense. _“Josie,”_ Dave said. _“Could you call my brother for me? I need to talk to him.”_  

_“Okay!”_

There was a breath of air and a flicker of movement that made Dave twitch. He could see a child-sized shadow that seemed to run _into_ Aradia somehow. The beat got louder, came closer. The glow in Aradia’s eyes became brighter. Then the beat stopped, and Aradia’s eyes turned white. _“Hey little man,”_ Aradia said in a voice that was still female, but was also definitely Dirk’s voice. It was his voice, his expression and posture. _“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”_

“Yeah,” Dave said, and his voice had a quaver in it. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time.”

“I know,” Dirk said. “I’m sorry. I tried to help but there wasn’t a lot I could do.” There was a lot of sadness in that admission. “I’m happy you survived. I said it before via RedglareJunior over there, but I’m proud of you and I’m sorry I failed you.”  

Dave’s “You didn’t fail me--” came out on top of Pyrope’s “Redglare Junior?”

There was a slight flicker of a smile from Dirk. “From where I’m sitting, I failed to protect you, kid. If I had any sense, I would have tried to get into a CC instead of doing the monastic poverty thing. I can’t even claim my being there made a difference however much I wanted it to.”

“When were you going to tell me about the monastic poverty thing?” Dave asked.

“If Aunt Rhodey’s gray goose hadn’t been cooked we would have had a little micro-collective,” Dirk said, sounding flippant and sad at the same time. “I kept mostly undercover except for a few contacts after Tia Anroda died. I was going to wait until you were at least ten before telling you about the Signless.”

“Tia Anroda?” The name was familiar, and he could almost remember a face. “I remember someone saying you were raised by a troll, some veteran or something. They said that’s why you liked--”

“Their freaky bee computers,” Dirk said. “And other things you’re not old enough to know about. She didn’t really raise me. She was more of a teacher than a parent. She helped me take care of you, but she did not like babies, which didn’t seem to faze you at all. You’d just crawl into her lap like a cat singling out the one allergic person in the room.” A beat. “No baby pictures though, sad to say.”

“A tragedy I’m sure, sir,” Pyrope said. “Could you please explain the phrase ‘Redglare Junior’?”

“I could,” Dirk said. There was another beat. “But I’m sure you’re quick enough to figure it out, Junior.”  

Pyrope frowned. “You know my Ancestor.”

“She helped me help Dave,” Dirk said. “She helped me deal with not being able to help Dave.”

“How did she help me?” Dave asked. “How did she help you?”

“She kept me from doing anything stupid when I really wanted to, and told me there’d be justice soon. She helped me try to reach you, but that didn’t really work all that well. She possibly also played matchmaker with you and Junior but I’m not exactly sure how she went about it.” Dirk smiled a little. “I think you possibly have yourself a patron saint.”

“A patron saint,” Dave said. He wanted to say something about Pyropes and Strider swag, but the words refused to come. He kept thinking about Dirk’s, _“She kept me from doing anything stupid when I really wanted to.”_ Dave wanted to ask about that, but the words still wouldn’t form. _His_ Pyrope nudged him gently with her shoulder and squeezed his hand a little.

Dirk shrugged. “Fairy godmother? Guardian angel?”

“Bro, the footprints on the beach thing is not nearly as comforting as you might think,” Dave said when he could get his voice to work. Because he hadn’t known. As far as he’d known he’d been completely alone, and that mattered, and being told _“I was there carrying you,”_ after the fact didn’t change what being alone felt like. Not when you were alone and angry and hating yourself.   

Dirk nodded. “I know. I wish we could have done more for you.”  

“You did what you could,” Dave said. And then, his voice cracking a little, _“Bro, I missed you.”_

 _“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me, little man,”_ Dirk said in English. _“I’m proud of you and I’m glad you were able to find a family.”_ He smirked faintly. _“I’m just sad I won’t get to walk you down the aisle.”_

“We don’t even have a date set,” Dave said. “I haven’t even picked out a dress.”

“You’ll figure something out,” Dirk said. “I should go--but we can talk again sometime.”

Dave nodded. “Okay.”

It was strange watching Dirk leave. Megido’s eyes dimmed and her posture changed as she stopped being Dirk and started being Megido. She resumed drumming, and accompanied it with a song that Pyrope joined in on. It was a hymn of some kind, thanking the spirits for making an appearance. Dave fidgeted a little, not knowing if he should even try to join in. When the ritual was over, Aradia did some kind of invocation and he and Pyrope ended up helping to clean up the ritual area.

Afterward, Megido explained some of the metaphysical aspects of the ritual. She also explained how it fitted in with a whole bunch of other rituals in her Tradition. Most of it went right over his head but he nodded in what were hopefully the right spots. Megido ordered dinner delivered to the suite and it turned into a kind of party. (Specifically it was the kind of party that is a years-belated wake.)

Dave talked about bro, about his friends when he’d been a kid. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of food and people coming in. Megido’s ashenmates who arrived with the food and then Vantas and Egbert followed by Harley and Captor who arrived last. (“I invited them before we left,” Pyrope said.) It was a little overwhelming, but in a good way. They spent the evening talking, and at one point he ended up sandwiched between Harley and Pyrope on the couch cuddling while everyone watched movies (a historical drama Aradia’s ashenmates felt compelled to snark. The snark made up for the movie, which was actually pretty awful for other reasons than historical inaccuracy.)

The party wound down eventually, everyone heading to their respective suites.Dave fell asleep on the shuttle back to Balanced Blade. When he woke up again, he was lying on the couch with his head in Pyrope’s lap. She was only half awake, and playing with his hair. “Hey Pyrope, want me to tuck you in?”

“Maybe in a bit,” Pyrope said. “I am thinking about being _married_ , and _in-laws_.”

“Heh. I look forward to being Mr. Dave Pryope.”

“Hmmm I think we should hyphenate,” Pyrope said. “Marcus tells me this is a suitable custom for a young liberal couple.”

“Pyrope, tell me you were not seriously asking Marcus about marital naming conventions.” He didn’t know whether that was horrifying or hilarious. Hilarifying.

“Not seriously. I was joking a little, but I think I like the idea of a _commitment ceremony_ of some kind.”

“I think I’d like that too,” Dave said, and caught Pyrope’s hand, and kissed it. “When?”

“Soon, after Peixes coronation, that’ll take at least half a sweep to prepare for,” Pyrope said.  

“First there has to be a Duel,” Dave pointed out.

“I’m reliably and somewhat spookily informed it will be soon,” Pyrope said, and kissed his forehead. “I choose to believe that the Heiress will be the victor. Sleep in my block tonight.”

“Okay,” Dave said, and after a while he got up to help Pyrope make a pile in her respite block, and then tucked her in.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has an [**ask blog**](http://contralegemasks.tumblr.com/ask).


End file.
